


A Minority of One

by BlindPilot



Category: Muse
Genre: Action, Angst, BND, Drama, Freedom of Information, GCHQ, Introspection, M/M, NSA, Politics, Romance, Stream of Consciousness, Suspense, The Guardian (press), Thriller, Violence, WikiLeaks, alternative universe, current affairs, whistleblowing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindPilot/pseuds/BlindPilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act." - George Orwell</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!
> 
> I'm new to actually ~writing~ slash fic, especially in English (I am German), so please bear with me.  
> A few general things before you can go and have a look at me embarrassing myself, though:  
> 1\. I'm not sure but it might be possible that I'm gonna have to up the rating as the story goes on.  
> 2\. The quotes at the beginning of each chapter are taken from George Orwell's 1984 unless stated otherwise.  
> 3\. This story is based on current events, mostly those concerning/involving Edward Snowden and WikiLeaks.  
> 4\. Unfortunately I'm neither an expert on computers nor on politics so innacuracies are bound to happen, but I'm trying to do my research thoroughly.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and has never happened like this. I do not own any of the people mentioned and do not mean to offend. Opinions and mistakes are my own, though.
> 
> This first chapter goes out to my lovely beta Alex who helped me out a lot although my computer refused to open her documents! Thanks bub!

 

_“What made it sit at the edge of the lonely wood and pour its music into nothingness?”_

**Monday, 27 th May 2013, 07:30am, London Borough of Islington**

“2.50, please,” the young brunette giggled behind the coffee store’s counter.

Flashing his white teeth in his most infectious smile Dominic handed her the money and took his paper cup.

“Thanks Claire. See you tomorrow,” he winked and left her blushing and staring after him.

She’d never really been his type but he wasn’t above using her little crush on him to his advantage. Not in a mean or, God forbid, calculating way but getting a discount on virtually everything he bought there sure was worth the occasional flirting. Oz had become his favourite café in no time.

Slinging his black messenger bag back over his shoulder he went off to York Way. The five minute walk in the still chilly morning air made the hair on his arms stand on end as he sipped his coffee. The anticipation of getting back to work after a weekend at his mother’s place did its part, as well. Don’t get this wrong, he loved his mother to no end. But her constant worrying about his eating and sleeping habits started to irritate him a lot faster since he’d moved out and into his own flat in central London, Teignmouth suddenly seeming even smaller and more confined than before.

The never-ending thrumming and buzzing of London and the sheer pulsing of life it exuded was what had drawn him there in the first place. Not to mention his luck of having been accepted as an intern at one of the capital’s top papers, The Guardian. That’d been back in 2011 and now he was a full member of the editorial staff. Thinking about it he still couldn’t quite believe his luck. Of course it hadn’t just been luck that had gotten him the job, no, far from that. 28-year old Dominic Howard had a curious and open mind, the right amount of journalistic professionalism, a certain air of determination and self-confidence and, of course, the charm and charisma people immediately opened up to. In up to no time he’d become a vital member of The Guardian’s staff and was very aware of that. His pride of having made it did not stem from over-confidence or the failure of many people who’d tried to achieve what he had achieved, but from the knowledge that his hard and passionate work had paid off. In short, Dominic loved his job with a vigour that bordered on obsessive.

That was why he was now approaching the impressive, glass fitted building with a happy skip to his pace. Lynda, the paper’s middle-aged receptionist, greeted him with a generous smile and he saluted her when he went past and down the hall to the elevator. Dominic went up to the third floor which housed the editorial department and, without knocking, entered his mentor’s office. Stewart Payne, a 53-year old associate editor, was sitting behind his desk with a cup of tea and a huge stack of papers in front of him. He sighed but didn’t look up as his former charge sat down on the other side of his desk.

“Good morning, Dominic,” he eventually acknowledged his visitor’s presence.

“Mornin’ Stew,” Dominic grinned. “Not a good weekend?”

“No, not exactly. Helena moved back in with her mother,” the older man murmured and Dominic took in a sharp breath.

“Oh God, why?”

“’Because,’ she said. Apparently I’m not a good enough dad anymore,” Stewart offered by way of explanation.

“Nonsense!” Dominic protested as if personally attacked. “She’s just a teenager, don’t take these things too seriously.”

“Nah, I try not to. I’ll see her for lunch tomorrow. Maybe we can work it out again. And how was yours? You went to see your mum, right? How is she?”

“She’s fine, worrying over me like the mother hen she is,” Dominic chuckled, crossing his legs.

“I can imagine,” the editor replied and looked the younger man up and down sceptically. “You could really use some weight on that body of yours.”

“Oh, not you too,” Dominic groaned in feigned exasperation and got up again. “Anyway, I’m off to my desk. Need to get through some leftover paperwork.”

“See you for lunch?” Stewart asked as Dominic was halfway through the door.

“Yup, Oz at 12,” the blond confirmed with a smile and then hurried down the hallway to the open-plan office, greeting a few familiar faces on his way.

 

 *  *  *

The first thing he did when he was finally sitting at his own desk was to get an overview of today’s workload while his computer was starting up. He filed through his slightly thinner – compared to Stewart’s – stack of papers, threw some outdated, in his case meaning two days old, article sketches into the bin and scribbled potential ideas onto a stray post-it. Checking and replying to e-mails was next on the agenda. He pulled one of the scones his mum had forced on him out of his bag and started nibbling on it while the e-mail server was processing his login details.

36 new mails. Just the usual as the young journalist had expected. Browsing through the readers’ questions, criticism and praise Dominic’s scanning eyes came to a sudden halt when reading one very obscure e-mail address. Sent by bbqua@yuno.pe at 02:16 this morning. He’d never heard of an e-mail provider called yuno and neither did he know the domain .pe. Dominic directly sent it through the paper’s additional security scanning program before even opening it. The program worked busily for about three minutes before coming up empty.

“Oh well,” he mumbled to himself, intrigued. “Challenge accepted.”

Of course he could not just open it, not knowing where it had come from and all. Back in his time as an intern he’d had to learn that the hard way. He remembered that one time when he’d opened a mail slightly similar to this one and instantly brought down The Guardian’s internal server by accidentally installing a virus on his computer. His co-workers had made it a tradition to celebrate that memorable day by congratulating him every 20th May on his feat of paralysing the work of the complete editorial staff singlehandedly on his very first day.

Shaking his head to get rid of that certain memory; Dominic marked the e-mail for later. He wasn’t completely sure why but he felt the strong urge to show it to Stewart. Maybe he knew what to do with this. The associate editor had gained his fair share of experience with such obscurities, after all. Now Dominic just needed to occupy his mind until lunch. No problem, he had a whole bunch of research waiting for him anyway.

 

**11:57am**

“Where is he?” the young man mumbled to himself when Claire brought him the two cups of coffee.

“Huh?” she asked.

Dominic hadn’t been too successful in occupying himself after all and had left 20 minutes early. That was why he was now sitting outside the café, waiting for Stewart.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, smiled at the woman and earned an impossibly wide smile in return.

“Dominic.” Stewart strolled towards Dominic’s table and sat down, helping himself to a cigarette.

“What’s taken you so long?”

“Actually I’m not late,” the older man snickered. “You’re just really early. How long have you been sitting here?”

“About...15 minutes. Okay, I’ve been early. Sorry.”  Dominic smiled and pushed the second cup towards his mentor.

“That’s pretty early, even for you.” Stewart smirked at him.

Dominic sighed and handed him a post-it with the strange e-mail address. Straight forward. He couldn’t have waited any longer anyway.

“What’s that?” Stewart looked at the yellow paper with open curiosity and pulled it towards himself.

“I’ve received it last night. When I saw it I ran an additional security scan but the program didn’t find anything and so I wanted to ask for your opinion before opening it but I googled the domain and apparently it’s from Peru but that’s a really weird address isn’t it?” he blurted out in one breathless torrent of words.

“Whoa, slow down. This,” he pointed at the post-it, “has been in your incoming mail?”

“Yes,” Dominic nodded.

Stewart sighed. “We cannot be really sure before consulting one of the IT staff, of course...but this looks a hell lot like it’s been sent via Tor. Probably PGP-encrypted as well.”

Dominic stared blankly at him and Stewart sighed again.

“Tor is an encryption system that basically sends the message through different host computers connected to its network. Most of the times people already PGP-encrypt their messages before sending them via Tor, PGP meaning nothing but Pretty Good Privacy. At each correct ‘stop’ one layer of encryption gets peeled off until it reaches the receiver in its original state of encryption. Monitoring the sender’s or receiver’s connection doesn’t do any good because neither can the content be accessed nor can be found out who sits at the farther end of that exchange. Because of this layer system the program is called Tor, short for ‘The Onion Route’.”

Stewart looked at Dominic to see whether he got it. The younger man stared in a mixture of amazement and disbelief. Of course Dominic understood and Stewart wasn’t sure why he’d doubted it for even a moment.

“So the last host the message went through is based in Peru?”

“Probably. You can never be too sure because some of the more experienced users tend to add certain layers of encryption of their own making. I wouldn’t even be surprised if that e-mail address was just some sort of username because you usually don’t get a specific address when receiving a Tor-encrypted message.”

“Is this...is this the system WikiLeaks used when you worked with them? Back in 2010?”

Dominic had never dared to ask his mentor about the time he and some of his co-workers had spent working with WikiLeaks before. He wasn’t exactly sure why but he’d felt like it might have been too nosey. And too fanboyish but he would never admit that one to himself.

“Yes. It’s exactly that.” Stewart took a sip of his coffee and fixed his eyes on Dominic again.

“I read all about what you and the others did back then. All the work on the cables and the arguments with the other papers...and especially the ones with Assange...and the eventual publishing. It was amazing journalistic work!” Okay, Dominic unleashed his inner fanboy after all.

Stewart smiled weakly. “All those nights spent at the office and going through these documents got more than tiring after a time. Don’t get me wrong, I loved having been involved in such a massive story. But especially working with Assange could be pain in the arse sometimes. He is a...a peculiar person.”

“So, do you think this message comes from WikiLeaks?” Dominic was an attentive listener but his usually well hidden impatience was showing now more than ever.

“No, I don’t think so. They aren’t the only people using Tor. It was originally developed in 1995 as a US Naval Research Laboratory project. You wouldn’t even believe how keen all the hackers were to get their hands on it. It had spread in virtually no time.”

“But who-“ Dominic started again.

“We can only find out by opening that message,” Stewart interrupted him. “But no matter what this is about, promise me not to tell anyone about it. At least for now. We don’t want to cause another office commotion before exactly knowing who or what we’re dealing with.”

Dominic nodded his silent but painfully enthusiastic agreement.

 

**Monday, 27 th May 2013, 10:13pm, Central London**

_Good evening, Mr Howard. Or whatever time it is when you are reading this. I have found your e-mail address on the newspaper’s homepage and that is how I ended up contacting you. God, I hope you are the right person for this. Listen, I need help concerning a very serious issue. I have something that I need to pass on to someone. For obvious reasons I cannot give names. If you are the right person you won’t need me spelling them out anyway. Please contact me as soon as possible! – a concerned reader_

Dominic was sitting on his couch with his laptop on the small table in front of him. The microwave went  _ting_  when his dinner was ready but the journalist was too busy rereading the e-mail a member of the IT staff had encrypted for him that afternoon. Fortunately the man didn’t have to read the content for that. Stewart had been just as excited as Dominic but had left it to the younger man to decide what to reply. He was the direct addressee after all.

Dominic had known that this was about WikiLeaks as soon as Stewart had told him about the organisation’s use of the Tor system. Even after his mentor’s doubt about their involvement. He felt a strange sense of pride because he’d proved himself the right person. Although he still had no idea how to respond. Stewart and said IT technician had helped him with working out Tor so he could use it for his answer. Still, that didn’t help him with the content.

Sighing in frustration Dominic got up and went into the small kitchen. He took the leftovers from yesterday’s takeaway out of the microwave and hopped onto the kitchen counter. Absent-mindedly he started poking around the dish with his fork.

The sender was desperate, that much was clear. The person hadn’t even tried to hide it. At the same time he or she had been very careful about not revealing anything personal. Dominic just had the feeling that this person was someone living in London. Of course he knew that the paper was widely distributed and that you could access the website from basically everywhere. Nothing but a feeling.

A few minutes later Dominic sat down behind his laptop again and put his tea down next to it. Then he finally started typing, having decided that too much thinking would just stop him from replying altogether.

_Good evening to you too, concerned reader. I am flattered that you decided to contact me because I am sure there are some people who would have been the more obvious choice. It might also be important for you to know that I have never been in personal contact with that person before. But I can arrange for your something to be passed on to that someone. For that to happen I need some more information, though. I promise that you can fully trust me. My journalistic integrity dictates that I can never sell out an informant. If that is what you are. Please feel free to contact me again. – D.H._

Not completely satisfied but all the more tired Dominic pressed the  _Send_ button and just hoped that the encryption program would work its magic. He pulled his legs under himself, turned his iPod on and cradled the cup to his chest.

Now he just had to wait.

**Tuesday, 28 th May 2013, 03:37pm, London Borough of Islington**

“Dave, where did you put the photographs of the burnt house? The one in Greenwich?” Dominic fumbled furiously through the files that were strewn over his desk.

“I gave them to the associate editors. Stop panicking, geez,” Dave shouted from across the busy room.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Dominic ruffled his hair with both hands and went on scanning the chaos that was his workplace.

“Hey, you okay?”

The young journalist started up and looked directly into Stewart’s face. The man looked worried when he put another file on Dominic’s desk. The blond nodded and pulled the file towards himself.

“Just stressed, I guess. What is this?”

“Well, I thought you might be interested in the notes I took back in 2010.”

“Really?” Dominic gaped at his mentor and looked back down at the small treasure in his hands. “Wow, thanks.”

“So, did you reply?”

“Yes...I turned on my e-mail notification in case that address contacts me again.”

“Good, that’s good. It’s actually a bit odd that this person contacted you specifically. You were not involved in our cooperation with WL back then. You weren’t even in London, for that matter.”

“I know. I mentioned that in my reply but told him or her that I could help anyway.”

“Perfect. This person needs someone to trust in. In my opinion you are the most trustworthy person working here.” Stewart whispered the last part and chuckled into Dominic’s ear. “Maybe our concerned reader knows that already.”

A swooshing sound and the sonorous female computer voice announced Dominic’s incoming mail. He almost scrunched the file up in his hands and hectically clicked his way through to the mail’s content. Stewart was hovering over his shoulder all the while.

_sorry but I can’t give you any details. neither personal nor concerning my problem. the only thing I can tell you is this: I’ve come across something positively explosive. this needs to get to the right people asap. I don’t know what to do. people need to know. gitmo is not an option._

While Dominic was still frowning at his screen in disbelief Stewart was already busy pointing out the mail’s peculiarities.

“Look, these short sentences and the lack of proper punctuation and capitalization indicate that our subject was in haste. The use of acronyms, the informal language...I mean, this is basically today’s internet slang but in comparison to the first mail...I don’t know, Dominic, but to me it seems like this person is in real trouble. Requesting contact information for WikiLeaks AND mentioning Gitmo...it doesn’t sound too good,” Stewart lowered his index finger to the last sentence and bit his lip in thought.

“Gitmo...does that mean what I think it does? Guantanamo?”

“Yup.”

“Wow...that’s...that’s fucked up.”

“This person could still just be an attention-seeker or simply paranoid but considering the encryption expertise and the energy he put into this...I don’t think that’s the case.”

“We have to put this person through to WikiLeaks!”

Dominic was suddenly on his feet, his stomach lurching uncomfortably. No, this did not sound right at all. He had to do something.

“Yes, we do. Tell him we’re contacting them to give them a heads up first. But we still need to know what it is that he’s come across. This smells like red-hot news to me.”

“Stew...you were right about what you said about the mail but I’m not sure whether it was really written in haste. To me it seems more like fear.”

“Maybe. And it wouldn’t surprise me. Working with WikiLeaks is always a big risk.”

“But can’t we help? We need to do something.”

“The only thing we can do right now is putting this anonymous informant through to Assange and his companions.”

Dominic sighed in defeat. “Okay. I’ll send our reply then. And you go and contact them.”

Stewart nodded and hurried off to his office.

 

**Wednesday, 29 th May 2013, 01:23am, Central London**

Dominic turned around in his bed yet again. The soft moonlight bathed the room in a pale grey and the air felt a bit humid. He could still hear the faint sounds of the city but his street stayed mostly quiet. Today an early summer had hit the city full force and Dominic’s sweat made the blanket stick to his skin. All of this would have been okay if it hadn’t been for his racing mind. He just couldn’t stop thinking. Maybe Dominic was just a bit too excited about the prospect of being involved in something potentially huge. At least that was what he tried to talk himself into thinking. The truth was, though, that he was worried. He was worried for the person sitting somewhere on their own, not really knowing who to turn to and now...reading his e-mail, maybe.

Eventually Dominic sat up and bunched up his blanket before putting his feet onto the carpet and getting up again. He went into his tiny but very tidy living room, switched his computer on and made a detour to the kitchen to get himself a glass of tap water. When he sat down on the couch the computer had already started up and Dominic logged into his e-mail account. He opened his sent messages and clicked the last one open to read through it. Again.

_We are getting in touch with the person you were talking about immediately and will put you through then. It might take a bit but I am going to contact you as soon as possible. I can assure you that this is treated as highly confidential until further notice on your part. It is all up to you but my associate editor reminded me to tell you that in case anything comes up publishing-wise our paper claims exclusive rights.  – D.H._

Dominic felt a little sick. He had tried to sound reassuring but now it just seemed aloof to him. Yes, he admitted to himself, he had read that e-mail one too many times and was now overanalysing things. Still, he could not stop feeling sorry for this person and before he had time to even think about it he had started to type out another message and sent it.

_I am very sorry. When I reread my e-mail from earlier I realised how much it sounded like we’re trying to push you. This is not the case. You’re scared, understandably. I don’t want you to feel forced into anything. I hope that I’ll have positive news and the contact you need next time. Please feel free to get in touch if anything comes up. Good night.  – D.H._

Dominic leant back and stared at the screen. He was not sure whether it had been a good idea to write this mail because Stewart had seemed very eager to get his hands on this promising...thing. It wasn’t even a story. Not yet. So far it was just a stranger who wanted direct contact to WikiLeaks. A stranger who seemed frightened. He had no idea why this was bothering him so much. It was possibly merely the fact that he knew a lot about the last time this organisation had been all over the news. Now its head was stuck in the Ecuadorian embassy and their most important informant was awaiting his trial, possibly even facing the death penalty. No, working with WikiLeaks was definitely dangerous.

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples in an attempt to clear his head. His vision started to blur a bit and, yes, he finally started to feel tired. He lied down and rested his head on one of the plush pillows. Just a few minutes...

 

 *  *  *

The young journalist jerked out of a light sleep when his e-mail program made itself known with its familiar swooshing sound. Dominic was crouching in front of the screen in no time, opening his incoming mail. bbqua@yuno.pe had replied.

_thank you. especially for helping me with contacting ‘someone’. but also for your second mail. although it reads a bit like your boss doesn’t know you sent it. kinda reassuring to know someone’s trying to have my back. I guess you already have some ideas about what is going on. but I hope you understand that I need to be careful with giving away details. thank you, again._

Well, busted. He wasted no time and directly started typing again. As long as this person was answering he had to make to the best of it.

_No, he didn’t know about that mail, nice deduction. I just felt really bad about the one before that because I assume you already have enough problems. You should not need to worry about publishing a story that might not even be one. On that note, of course I understand, safety first_

It was astonishing how fast his conversation partner replied to his messages. He imagined the person to be sitting in front of the screen, all alone, just like he was.

_you think this might not be a story, dominic? think again. don’t worry I wouldn’t have let me be pushed into anything anyway. this thing is too big for hasty decisions. just one question, why do you even bother talking to me like this?_

Being addressed with his first name startled Dominic a bit. He knew that bbqua (that’s what he called the person in his head now) had gotten his e-mail address from the paper’s homepage and of course his name was on there as well. It felt weird, nevertheless. The return of proper punctuation soothed his nerves a bit at least. Maybe he’d been successful in calming bbqua. The transition from slightly cheeky to completely insecure confused him, though. What kind of person was sitting on the other end of this conversation? Dominic felt himself growing more and more curious and at the same time more and more unprofessional. This was about a person in potential danger and not about his job, he tried to convince himself. He took another sip of his water and started typing again.

_Well, how would I know? Although all signs point into that direction, I give you that. And that’s good to hear. Journalists tend to be too passionate and focused when it comes to new stories. Why do I bother talking to you? That’s easy. (Remember that I’m just making assumptions here!) You seem to need someone to talk to about this. That leads to the conclusion that me and my ‘boss’ are the only people knowing about your problem right now which makes you a very lonely person. And I can’t stand it when brave and genuinely nice people are lonely. It can lead to bad decisions._

This time he had to wait a few minutes until the swoosh announced the arrival of bbqua’s answer. Had he gone too far?

_what makes you assume that I’m brave and nice? you’ve only read , like, four e-mails so far. let me tell you, I’m neither the former nor the latter. believe me._

Dominic swallowed. Self-confidence didn’t seem to be bbqua’s strong suit. Oh God...that just made the blond feel bad again.

_Okay, you’re right. I don’t know you. But making a move like contacting ‘someone’ with a problem as grave as you make yours sound seems pretty brave to me. Not many people have the guts to do that. I’m not sure what I’d do if we switched places. Also, you did not deny the lonely bit._

He cradled his face in his hands while waiting for his computer to go all _swoosh_ on him again. It didn’t disappoint.

_Good night, Dominic._


	2. Chapter 2

 

“ _Folly, folly, his heart kept saying: conscious, gratuitous, suicidal folly!”_

 

**Wednesday, 29 th May 2013, 02:11am, Cheltenham Benhall**

In the dark of a small, crammed bedroom a laptop was snapped shut. Its owner got up from his bed and put it down on his desk. Barefoot, he padded over to the bookshelf and carefully started searching for a little, worn notebook. When he found it between an old copy of Foucault’s Pendulum and the dusty user’s manual of his even dustier microwave, he pulled it out and opened it. He did not even need to switch on the light to find the page he was looking for. The book automatically fell open to that page anyway. He crouched down to pick up a stray pen and scribbled down a name before he went over to his bed again. Without having to think about it he put the notebook under his pillow. Out of nowhere his stomach made itself known with a desperate rumble. He sight and succumbed to his bodily needs.

In the kitchen he started adding random ingredients to his leftover lunch, a bowl of Chinese noodles. He did not even bother with heating the meal up and sat down at the kitchen table, spooning cold noodles into his mouth. God, it felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. This might have even been true.

With a stretched sigh he eventually got up again and abandoned the dirty plate on the kitchen table in favour of a quick shower. The almost unbearable heat only added another obstacle to his already slim chance of a restful night.

But how could he expect to sleep anyway? With a mind working at high-speed and the more than uneasy feeling of being constantly watched nagging at him, sleep was none of his top priorities. He wished it was. Sighing he stepped under the cold spray of water and closed his stinging eyes. Had it been a good idea to contact this journalist? According to his resume he wasn’t one of the most experienced people working at that newspaper. But something about his style of writing (of course he had done some research on the man before asking him for help) and the soft smile he had put on for his profile page’s picture had the usually suspicious man taking to him almost immediately. Well, _almost_. The kind and understanding messages he had exchanged with the journalist had just strengthened that impression, but caution was still his first and foremost resolve.

His thoughts wandered back to the material he had securely locked away on his external hard drive. This was surely going to get him into the severest trouble of his life. No, scratch that. He was already facing it. It was just that the authorities did not know about it. Not yet.

 

 **Wednesday, 29 th May 2013, 11:36am, ** **London Borough of Islington**

Dominic was seated on a park bench in St. Pancras Gardens, waiting for a call. He had left the office early because Stewart had informed him that a certain Julian Assange was more than interested in the anonymous sender of those e-mails and thus wanted to talk to the person who was in direct contact with him or her. Now he was fidgeting with his mobile, opening random apps just to kill the time. Assange was supposed to call him at half past eleven. Well, he was an important man, Dominic tried to calm his nerves.

Just when he had decided to continue his phenomenally good round of Angry Birds, his mobile went off and he just about managed to not throw it into a bush over his frayed nerves. With shaking fingers and a deep breath he answered the call.

“Mr Assange?”

“Are you alone?”

Dominic frowned.“Yes, I am. I’m in the park.”

“Which one?”

“St. Pancras Gardens.”

“Okay, that’ll do.” The man on the other end sighed. “Listen, I’m calling over a secured line but we should keep this as short as possible.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me everything you know about this person.”

Dominic thought for a moment. Yes, what did he actually know about his conversation partner?

“Well,” he started, “not a lot. What I know is that he... or she, for that matter, is very cautious about giving away personal details. I guess this person is very scared and possibly alone in all of this.”

“Stewart mentioned that he uses Tor?”

“Yes, that’s true. Why do you think it’s a man?”

“I don’t, it’s just easier than referring to him as being both sexes.”

“Okay. So, yes, he uses Tor. And PGP.”

“And he asked you for my contact details?”

“Well, yours or WikiLeaks’ in general, but yes. He thinks that you are the right people to deal with his problem.”

“Did he tell you more about this problem?”

“He said that he’s come across something potentially explosive.”

“What a cliché,” the Australian mumbled. “Anyway, I am going to send you an encrypted mail with the URL to a private chat room that I am going to set up specifically for this purpose. Do not open the mail, just forward it to him. Stay in contact with him. Tell him that you have talked to me in person and that the URL is genuine and secure. I’ll be in touch.”

With that he hung up and Dominic stared at his phone incredulously. Wow, so this was the famous – or infamous depending on whom you asked – Julian Assange, the man behind the world’s biggest leaks of political and military secrets.

“What a dick,” Dominic muttered under his breath and put the mobile back into his messenger bag.

He got up and made his way out of the park to drop in at Oz. Stewart was probably already waiting there for their lunch date.

 

**12:00pm**

“He issued orders to me like I was a ten-year old! And then he simply hung up on me!”

“Yeah, he does that.” Stewart sipped at his tea and watched Dominic over the rim of his cup.

The young journalist sighed in defeat and slumped back in his chair. The older man sat up a bit straighter and quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Do what he says. I know he can be quite... bossy, but trust me, he knows his shit.”

“Yeah, okay, but no one can prevent me from doing it with a disapproving frown.” Dominic crossed his arms over his chest defiantly and Stewart was reminded of exactly that, a ten-year old. He chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Dominic screwed up his mouth but apparently decided to drop the topic in favour of a more pressing matter. “You know, I’m not really sure he can handle my anonymous contact.”

“ _Your_ anonymous contact?” Stewart’s eyebrows reached his hairline.

“Not mine in the sense of ‘mine’,” he mimed the quotation marks with his fingers, “but more in the sense that he chose to talk to _me_.”

“Dominic, I’m not sure whether you understand the gravity of the situation.” Stewart had had enough of this now. “This is not about you or your unwillingness to comply with Assange’s orders.”

“But I’ve talked to him and he’s really scared! I don’t think-“

Stewart shot him a warning look.“Stop there. This person wanted you to put him through to Assange. That’s exactly what you’re going to do. After that your job’s done. And, listen closely now, I don’t want you to get involved any more than you already are. Are we clear?”

Dominic pressed his lips into a thin line, but nodded reluctantly. “But I still think-“

“No, that’s enough!” Stewart had never been this strict with him before and it caught him by surprise. “I don’t want this whole thing,” Stewart waved his hands about between them, “to impair your judgement.”

“My judgement is fine, thank you very much,” Dominic grumbled but let it go.

“Well, I hope it’ll stay that way. I’ve gotta get back to work now. And so do you.” Stewart got up, put some money under the ashtray and, because he had a soft spot for the young man, squeezed his shoulder tightly. “Come on, work’ll take your mind off things for a while. Maybe that’ll put the situation in perspective and you can reply appropriately tonight. I mean, instead of grumbling about Assange.”

“Maybe,” Dominic replied, got up as well, and followed the older man out of the café.

 

**Wednesday, 29 th May 2013, 08:22pm, Cheltenham Benhall**

“Good night,” the young receptionist said as he made his way out of the building.

“Night,” he mumbled into his direction and just about managed not to leg it.

He took a deep breath when he left the imposing building that was his working place. Without looking back he hurried towards his bike, staying inconspicuous getting harder with every step. He felt relief flooding through his veins as he mounted his bike and finally put this place behind him. At least for today. This journalist had promised to get him through to WikiLeaks and he hoped that ‘as soon as possible’ meant tonight.

When he arrived at the impersonal looking new house that his flat was in, he sighed and cursed himself once again for ever having come here. He would be fine now if he had just stayed in Cambridge. But then again... he might be facing the hardest time of his life, but if it all worked out like he hoped it to, it would definitely be worth it. Anyway, it was far too late to drop out now that he was already up to his neck in this whole affair.

He carried his bike into the basement and went up to his small flat. As the door slammed shut behind him, he dropped his keys on the coffee table and toed off his shoes. Since he did not really feel like opening his door to anybody tonight, he decided that takeaway was not an option. He went to the kitchen and rummaged through his cupboards, coming up with nothing but an old tin of ravioli. Good enough, he decided and poured the content into a small pot. He turned on the stove and went to the bedroom to pick up his laptop. After putting it down on the kitchen table he switched it on. _Please, please, please let there be good news_ , he prayed silently and turned back to the stove to stir the ravioli.

When he was sat behind his computer, wolfing down the day's first proper meal, he logged into his e-mail account and started scanning his incoming mail for the name Dominic Howard. Nothing. A feeling of disappointment spread through him. The only one who knew of his problem did not even bother to keep him up to date on the WikiLeaks front. Shit. His whole body tensed up as the severity of the situation once again crashed down on him. It could only be a matter of time until they found out that something was wrong and then he was fucked. But what was he supposed to do? If he left the town, they’d probably suspect him even sooner. If he stayed... well, he would surely go crazy from the fear of getting caught. And if they caught him now, all would have been for naught.

He leant back in his chair and gripped his knees tight. No, he needed to actually do something. Keeping his head down and boiling in his own worries would get him nowhere.

 

 **Wednesday, 29 th May 2013, 09:51pm, ** **Central London**

Dominic was pacing up and down his living room, throwing almost accusatory looks at the screen of his laptop. Assange’s promised e-mail still had not arrived and now he was not sure whether to send bbqua another mail to tell him he had to white-knuckle it for another unknown span of time or... not. He should probably do it, just to keep him calm. Oh, yes, since Assange’s call Dominic was referring to bbqua as a he.

Eventually he sat down on his sofa and started typing out another e-mail. Stewart had told him to keep out of this as much as possible but he just could not shake the feeling that this person needed some true support. He had said that it was good that someone was trying to have his back. Dominic had no idea why but he wanted to be exactly that someone.

_Good evening. I’m sorry that I’m only writing to you now. I talked to ‘someone’ today and he promised to send me a link to a private chat room. I’m supposed to forward it to you so you can finally get into direct contact with him. The link is genuine and secure, he said. You’ll have it in your incoming mail as soon as I’ve received it, I promise. So, how was your day? Sorry if I’m being obtrusive here. To be really honest I’m just kind of worried about you. It must be so hard to be in a situation like yours._

He clicked the _send_ button before he could back out again. In order not to end up staring at the screen in anticipation of a reply, he took the file Stewart had given him out of his bag and started reading through it. It was an incredible collection of notes on the documents that got published on wikileaks.org, personal thoughts on his work with the organisation and some photocopies of the articles about the whole affair.

A sudden _swoosh_ and the announcement _You got mail_ pulled him out of his thoughts again. He hunched down in front of the screen and opened bbqua’s answer.

_thank you, Dominic. just in time if I’m being completely honest. I was just about to leave. I’m more than relieved to hear about the development on your end of the line. my day was okay. the usual, I guess. how nice of you to be worried. or dumb, I’m not sure. getting involved in this might not be the best idea and I do not want to get you into trouble. anyway, how was yours?_

He was about to leave? What did that mean? The way he wrote it, it could have meant anything. Was he about to leave for dinner or to leave the country? Dominic sighed in frustration. Maybe Stewart and bbqua were right and he should not get emotionally involved in this. Too late for that, he thought and pounded out on the keyboard again.

_How about nice and dumb? I could live with that. It’s too late anyway because I am already involved. My day was okay, too. Just work and the like. Now that we’ve established that I’m dumb but still nice, can I ask you something? Pure curiosity, really._

Anxious to see how bbqua would react, he sent his message off into cyber space and leant back into his cushions. It did not take more than five minutes until another reply announced its arrival.

_I don’t think you’re dumb, Dominic. maybe a little naive, but surely not dumb. I mean, look where your non-dumbness has gotten you. one of this country’s top papers. congratulations on that one, by the way. but be careful what your curiosity might get you into. and, well, you can ask me anything. just don’t be disappointed if I don’t answer._

Dominic did not need to be told twice. This could be his only chance to learn a bit more about the person on the other end and he was, in fact, more than a little curious.

_Thanks for the dubious praise. I’ll take it. My question is, and sorry if this seems a bit silly considering the circumstances, whether you are actually a man or a woman? It’s so hard to imagine the person you are talking to without knowing anything about them. You don’t need to answer this of course._

This was clearly morphing into a chat. His messages were going out as fast as the answers were coming in. That is why he was not surprised when his laptop went all _swoosh_ on him not three minutes later. bbqua seemed to take to their conversation as well.

_as we’ve already established, I’m not answering anything I feel uncomfortable with so no need to pacify me. you are trying to imagine me? why Mr Howard, do you want to ask me out?_

Cheeky bastard, Dominic thought and chuckled to himself.

_So I take it you do not want to answer that one. Don’t feel too flattered, though, I just like to make up an image of the people I talk to. Nothing unusual for me, I do this every day when I’m on the phone with unhappy readers. You have the advantage of knowing who I am. I do not even know whether I’m talking to a 70-year old grandfather or a 17-year old teenage girl._

Somehow it soothed Dominic’s worries a bit that this person was still able to joke around in spite of the severity of the situation. He liked to think that he was able to get bbqua’s mind off things if only for a little while. And whoa, where did that suddenly come from? They had only been e-mailing for two days and he was not supposed to think of himself as the hero in shining armour.

_way to make me feel special. I’d insert a frowny face here, but I’m not really one for these silly smiley things. in that respect I might be more of a 70-year old grandfather. but I promise you, I have a 17-year old teenage girl’s ability to make you feel guilty. I’m the master (or mistress maybe...?) of disguise. keep those e-mails coming, your desperate curiosity is kinda amusing._

“Seriously?” Dominic looked at his computer, utterly baffled. bbqua was actually having fun teasing him. Maybe he had underestimated his conversation partner. It was a good thing, though, that he was as good as acting the 17-year old teenage girl as bbqua was claiming to be.

_Oh well, if you only want to make fun of me we could just as well go back to the brief updates-on-the-current-situation e-mails. I’m not sure whether ‘someone’ is going to take to your whims as well as I am, though. So, in case you’re really this uncomfortable with me knowing about your sex, I’ll stop annoying you. Bye._

Very satisfied with his reply, he pressed the _send_ button once again and waited for the next reply, smug grin in place.

_oh, come on, Dominic. stop being a bitch about this. I’m just a lonely stranger in need of a proper conversation, remember? no, seriously, I’m sorry. I meant no offence, it’s just that I haven’t talked to someone so freely in what feels like ages and I’m so grateful that you even bother to do so. it’s like you said in your first mail today, it sucks to be me right now._

Oh. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Mr Dominic Howard, mood killer. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face. This poor person was just trying to have some fun and he fucked it up. Shit.

_I didn’t say that. I said that it must be a very difficult situation for you right now. Well, something like that at least. I’m glad you feel like you can talk to me openly. Or as openly as it gets. Please continue to do so, I’m happy to act as your emotional outlet._

Dominic sent that mail with a weird feeling in his stomach. It was not exactly butterflies but neither was it dread or something awful like that. This time it took a while until bbqua’s answer arrived in his inbox.

_Dominic...I’m not sure what to say but I think I’ve been very lucky to e-mail a person like you. I imagine you’re the kindest journalist working at your newspaper. seriously, this time I’m not taking the piss. I understand that you want to know a bit more about the person you are talking to. who wouldn’t under circumstances like these? I am, in fact, a man. You know that I have to be careful with what I tell you about myself, but, as I know your name, it’s only fair to give you something other than my e-mail address to call me by. so, for now, my name is M._

He had to sit back for a moment. Giving him just a single letter and his sex would usually not have been much, Dominic knew that, but considering this person’s caution and the overall situation it was more than he could have asked for. His heart was thrumming in his chest and he was not even sure why. The young man tried to choose his next words very consciously. He wanted to make sure M knew that he knew how important this step was but he also wanted to lighten the mood a bit again. He started typing eagerly.

_M, I am overwhelmed by your trust and I promise you that I won’t disappoint you. This is more than I would have ever expected, thank you. So... M... is that like in James Bond? Are you working for the MI6? Imagine how fitting that would be, you working for the government and then turning against it! I know this is stupid but I seriously hope that I’m right._

Happy with his reply he sent it off and grinned at no one in particular. When he realised that he tried to smooth out his face again because, seriously, how inappropriate was that? He decided that this change of dynamics deserved a proper welcome, so he got up, put on some Queen and poured himself another cup of tea.

 

**Wednesday, 29 th May 2013, 11:03pm, Cheltenham Benhall**

He stared at his screen in sheer dread. Oh shit, oh shit, this had all been a monumentally stupid mistake. He switched off his computer and closed it. Then he got up from his bed, went into the tiny hallway and switched off his router as well. Just as a precaution.

The shocked man sat down at his kitchen table and poured himself a glass of wine to calm his frayed nerves. No, it was not possible, he kept telling himself. This journalist knew next to nothing about him. He could not know that he was working for the government, could he? No, this must have all been a huge coincidence. Maybe he was just a Bond fan. And still... he could not shake the awful feeling of having given himself away. What if this person was actually cooperating with the GCHQ? What if they already knew he was the one who had copied all those files to his USB stick? What if he went to work tomorrow and the special unit was already awaiting him?

No. No, no, no! It sounded silly and improbable but he could not rule it out and sure as hell could he not let all of this go to shit because some random journalist liked to make James Bond references. He needed to think this through. He needed a plan of action. But most of all he needed Assange’s fucking contact details!

 

 **Wednesday, 29 th May 2013, 11:59pm, ** **Central London**

M still had not answered and Dominic was growing seriously nervous. Had he said something wrong? Maybe M had just fallen asleep in front of his computer. Maybe... he did not like James Bond references? No, that’s ridiculous, he thought and shook his head to himself. Most possibly he had just gotten tired and gone to bed. Yes, that must have been it. It was sort of late, after all. Most of the working population was already fast asleep. Not quite happy with this explanation but with nothing else to do, he got up from the sofa, plugged out his iPod and picked up his laptop. Dominic wanted to give M just a few more minutes before he finally switched it off, maybe he would still reply.

He put the laptop down on his bed, changed into an old t-shirt and chequered night shorts and set his alarm clock for five in the morning. It was a good thing he could survive on less sleep than most people needed.

When the _swoosh_ announced the arrival of yet another e-mail, Dominic let out a relieved breath. He opened his laptop again and stared at the screen in confusion. This mail did not come from  bbqua@yuno.pe. The address said hhstpancrasgardens@lw.tl. Oh God, this could only be the account Assange had set up specifically for this purpose. Without a second thought he passed it on to M through the Tor server. He hoped the guy knew what to do with it.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry this one took me so long! Had to do quite some research and then there was GISHWHES and I was being lazy. There, I said it. Thanks again to my lovely beta Alex without whom this story would be an awful lot less readable.

_“They could spy upon you night and day, but if you kept your head you could still outwit them.”_

 

**Thursday, 30 th May, 03:37am, **Cheltenham Benhall****

Two men dressed in black left the huge GCHQ building after they had received an important order. They did not talk until they had climbed into the sleek, black BMW to make the short trip. The one behind the steering wheel started up the motor and the dark blond in the passenger seat pulled a folded piece of paper out of his suit jacket.

“Matthew James Bellamy, born June 9, 1985, secretary and consultant at the OCS since 2010. Cryptographer at the CESG, prior to that. His co-workers described him as a shy, secluded but highly intelligent man,” he summarised the information for his partner again.

“Aren’t they always,” the driver growled when he pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“It says that he was involved in some cooperation with the MI5 while he was still with the CESG. But since then he’d mostly kept his head down. Maybe it got too much for him.”

“Well, now he has come out of his hole. Not with the bang he’s hoping for if we can help it, though.”

“He’s a bloody idiot if he really thinks that he can get away with stealing top secret documents.”

“That guy has a death wish if you ask me.”

Despite everything they both chuckled at that. Five minutes later they parked the car in front of a white multiple-storied building. The street was dark and empty as they crossed it and walked up to the house. Picking the door’s lock was pure routine and nothing more than an annoying necessity.

“Top floor?” the blond mouthed and his partner simply nodded.

They both kept their 9-mm Brownings in their holsters, at hand if need be. The two agents climbed up the stairs, making virtually no sound at all. The years of strict training really paid off. They stopped for a moment in front of the door of their target and listened. They could hear the radio playing softly through the door of the small flat and they were positive that the man they were about to arrest on their employer’s behalf was still awake. Again they started picking the lock as fast as possible. When it was unlocked one of them slowly opened the door and a strip of yellow lamp light fell through the gap and onto the floor. Nothing moved inside but they radio programme switched to the weather report as they snuck into the slightly crammed flat of Matthew James Bellamy, the man whom they were about to remind who he was working for.

 

**Thursday, 30 th May 2013, 08:21am, Central London & ** **London Borough of Islington**

Dominic was sprawled on his bed and only a little, dark patch on his pillow and a really sore throat were witnesses to the bit of drooling he had done last night. Maybe he was developing a slight cold despite the ferocity of the summer. Just when he had turned around to get more comfortable, his mobile went riot on him and he cracked one eye open with a groan. He moved around to take it from his nightstand and licked his lips a bit before he answered the call.

“Dominic? Are you alright?” It was Stewart.

“Err, yes, of course. Why are you asking?”

“Because normally you would’ve arrived about an hour ago.”

Oh.

“Shit, what time is it?”

“Eight twenty-five. Dominic, what is going on?”

“Fuck! Why did I oversleep? I never oversleep!”

“Calm down, it’s okay.”

“No...no, it’s really not. Gonna be there in a few, see you then!”

And with that Dominic hung up, threw his mobile into his pillow and jumped up, a dull headache making itself known. He stumbled through his bedroom and picked up some stray clothes. There was no time to think about an elaborate outfit. After having crammed all his things into his messenger bag, he slipped into his shoes and stormed out of the flat, not even bothering with a shave or a shower. Although he craved both of them madly.

On his way to work he remembered _why_ he had overslept. The nagging worries about one certain anonymous man who called himself M had kept him awake long after the influx of e-mails had stopped. Had M fallen asleep? Had he said something wrong? Did M not need him anymore now that he could get into contact with Assange? And why the hell was he having all these schoolgirl thoughts? He did not even know the man and he sure as hell did not have the right to get grumpy about it. Worry, it was worry, he kept telling himself.

When he jumped out of the tube and hurried up the escalator, those worries started eating at him again. What if something had happened to the poor guy?

Dominic fiddled with his ticket because the machine just would not take it and consequently a queue of annoyed latecomers started to form behind him. Just when some guy started to get rude, the machine took his ticket in and he finally went through the turnstile and up the last flight of stairs. When he breathed relatively fresh air again, he started running and put King’s Cross behind himself. He hated being late so much that he had made it habit to get up at least one and a half hours before he had to leave the house. Thanks to that he had not been late since that one day in grammar school. He would rather not remember it, thank you very much. Today it had not quite worked out and he arrived with beads of sweat running down his face. This promised to become a very hot day again.

“Good morning, Dominic”, Lynda welcomed him but he just waved at her and ran down the hallway to the elevators.

Going up to floor three he finally had time to catch his breath and when the doors opened a very concerned looking Stewart already awaited him. He looked the younger man up and down who was resting his hands on his knees and thus stood in an awkward half-crouch. Dominic coughed a bit and straightened up again.

“Sorry I’m late”, he apologised and got out of the elevator.

Stewart raised an eyebrow at him. “You sure you’re okay, son? You look a bit sick.”

“No, I’m fine. Didn’t sleep too well, that’s all.”

If the older man was not quite convinced, he did not let it show. Instead he gestured Dominic towards his office and the blond sighed but followed the request.

“Sit”, Stewart said when he closed the door behind them.

Dominic did as he was told, although with a big question mark written all over his face.

Stewart sighed, sat down behind his table and remained silent for a while. The younger man started tapping out a nervous rhythm on his knees and eventually groaned in impatience.

“Stew, what is it?”

“You are lying to me”, Stewart finally mumbled.

“No, I’m not! What are you talking about?” Dominic was more than a little shocked.

“You are not okay and you’re letting yourself being distracted by things that are not your cup of tea.”

“Not my...what the hell, Stew?” he coughed again. Shock quickly turned into anger.

“No, calm down and listen. I know you. You are ambitious and passionate and focused. You don’t oversleep and you don’t risk your colleagues’ health by turning up sick. I know that you would lie in bed and damn the world for not being able to work, but you would still act responsibly about it.” Stewart looked at him intently and cupped his chin in his hands.

Dominic’s rage left him in one breath and he dropped his gaze. It was true, he felt a little uncomfortable with his sore throat and the insistent ache behind his forehead. But he was not actually sick, was he?

“You also slipped up a bit in your latest article. Sally gave it to me this morning and I had a look at it. That’s just not you.”

“I...I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” he whispered, ashamed.

“It happens to the best, that’s not the problem. I’m just worried that you’re getting distracted. Did you e-mail this person again?”

“Yes. Yes, I did. But he stopped replying. I passed on Assange’s contact details to him,” Dominic finally admitted.

“Then all should be fine. He got what he asked for.”

“But could we...could we contact Assange again? I just wanna make sure that M is fine,” the blond spluttered and was just as surprised as his mentor. For completely different reasons, though.

“M? Is that what he calls himself?” Stewart creased his forehead.

“That’s...I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Dominic stammered in utter horror.

“I understand that it’s confidential,” Stewart said, “but why did he tell you in the first place?”

“We...we chatted for a while and it just came up. Because he knew my name and all.”

“You chatted? Dominic, I told you not to get involved with this and now you’re having private chats? How did that happen?”

“I just felt sorry for him, ‘s all.”

The older man brought his hands down on his desk with a loud thud and got up again. “Okay son, you’re an adult and I can’t keep you from endangering yourself, as much as I want to.”

Suddenly irrational rage flared up in Dominic again and he got up before he knew it. “No, you listen now! You told me that this person needs someone to trust in and that I should be this person. You wanted me to squeeze the story out of him because you think it’s ‘red-hot news’,” he made air quotes, “and now you’re acting as if I’m going to get myself killed by getting involved!”

Dominic breathed hard and tried to suppress another coughing fit. Stewart stared at him incredulously, but before he got to answer the young man was already speaking again.

“I’ve had enough of this. I am an adult, you’re right. And you are definitely not my father and have no right to act as one.”

He turned towards the door and spat, “I’m gonna go home now. Not feeling well. Don’t wanna infect the others with my cold. Or my mood, for that matter.” Then he left without a backward glance.

Stewart gaped after him and slumped down in his chair again as the door fell shut behind Dominic.

**Thursday, 30 th May 2013,** **05:54pm,** **London Borough of Islington**

A grey, smoky shadow followed him down the endless corridor with billions of doors on both sides. He started to run, the wailing cries of the shadow making the hair on his neck stand on end. Sweat ran down his face and his back. His throat felt constricted, a thick lump growing within it with every step he took. A miserable shriek followed by a dull thud stopped him in his tracks and he turned around in horror. Some steps behind him the shapeless figure writhed on the floor in obvious agony. He hesitated for a moment. Shadows were not supposed to stumble and fall or feel pain. He closed the distance between them and knelt down, touching what could’ve been the shadow’s shoulder. It felt cold and wiry.

“Run,” it suddenly rasped and at the same moment he noticed a perfect darkness creeping down the corridor from where they had come and swallowing it whole. “Run!”

He got up again and looked down at the grey figure, realising that he had not been running from it but from the darkness. The shadow pushed at his ankle weakly and finally he set off, running like hell. Tears started streaming down his face and mixing up with the sweat. An agonised cry echoed through the corridor and bounced off its walls, following him alongside the utter blackness. He did not dare to look back but he knew with frightening certainty that the shadow was now wrapped up in the darkness that was threatening to swallow him up, as well.

 

Dominic woke up with a start, flailing about his bed, tangled in sweaty sheets. He touched his face and realised that he had been crying in his sleep. Choking on his breath he started coughing painfully and sat up shakily to give his lungs more room. He felt uncomfortably hot and sticky and ripped the sheets off of himself with angry ferocity. Then he rubbed at his face and closed his eyes for a moment. Dominic had not had nightmares in ages and he was confused as to where this one had come from. Deep down inside he already knew, but he kept denying it. Stewart was wrong. He could not be right, could he?

He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and shivered despite the stifling summer heat when his bare feet touched the hardwood floor. Still shaken up but already calming down a bit, he reached for the aspirin on his nightstand and gulped it down with a mouthful of water from the bottle next to his bed. Then he got up and decided that he was in desperate need of a shower. _And maybe a shave_ , he thought as he ran a hand over his slightly stubbly chin and padded over to the bathroom.

After the water had washed away the sweat, Dominic felt slightly more human again and the hot bowl of soup was exactly what he needed. He slapped it up with relish while the news flashed across his TV screen. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened and he was irrationally grateful for that. Not that M would be in the news. Dominic put the empty bowl back onto the little table and huddled up on his couch. The aspirin had worked its magic and his headache was almost gone. Maybe the worst was already behind him and this cold would not hit him full force.

Sighing he stretched his legs a bit and pulled his laptop to his lap. He had started it up before his shower and now he logged into his e-mail account. Again. Dominic had tried to avoid thinking about M and why the hell he was not answering anymore. He had no idea if the guy had already gotten in contact with Assange. If yes he hoped that the Australian would go easy on him and not try to push him into any reckless decisions. Dominic shook his head. No, Assange might have been an asshole when he had talked to him, but he sure knew what he was doing and would not put M in danger. Right?

He squeezed his eyes shut and ruffled his damp hair. Since when did he get so protective of someone? Someone he did not even really know? This was ridiculous. But still, the fact remained that he was worried. There had to be a way to make sure that M way alright.

He kept racking his head over that particular question for a few minutes when he was suddenly struck by an idea. It was not one of his best and it could get him into real trouble, he knew that, but it was his only shot. So he clicked open the mail he had gotten from Assange last night and let his cursor hover over the link to the private chat room. Maybe he could get hold of Assange. Maybe he could find out what was going on with M. Maybe.

 

**Thursday, 30 th May 2013, 07:03pm, Knightsbridge, London**

Julian Assange was seated behind one of his two laptops. The evening sun was shining in through one of the big windows in the tiny room that had become his home and shelter over the past year. Since June 2012 he was hiding from the authorities. Well, not so much hiding as dangling himself in front of their faces, just out of their reach. The Ecuadorian Embassy was neutral ground and he had found asylum here.

The ghost of a smile flitted across his face when he remembered last night’s correspondence with a new informant. The young man who had introduced himself as James had revealed something spectacular to him. Assange was sure that James was an alias and he could hardly blame him for being cautious, even with his new confidant. But oh Lord, the things he had told him.

_Thursday, 30 th May 2013, 02:56, Knightsbridge, London_

_James: hello?_

_HHJA: Yes._

_James: are you who you are supposed to be?_

_HHJA: What a philosophical question. Yes, I am._

_James: tell me something only you could know._

_HHJA: HH stands for Harry Harrison which was my alias on OKCupid. Harry was a 36 year old man, 87% slut and preferred women from countries that have sustained political turmoil._

_James: okay, well, I think that settles it._

_HHJA: James, why are you seeking me out?_

_James: I’m currently working for the gchq as a secretary and consultant at the ocs. This position granted me access to some highly confidential documents. well, ‘granted’ might be an exaggeration._

_HHJA: Are you safe right now?_

_James: I don’t know. I’m still at my flat in cheltenham and I think I did a sort of sloppy job with covering up my traces after I copied those files._

_HHJA: You need to leave the city._

_James: I know._

_HHJA: Do you have some place you can go to?_

_James: no, not really._

_HHJA: Okay, tell me what you have and then we will figure something out for you._

_James: first of all I’ve found documents about the extent of the government’s mass surveillance of its citizens’ internet and telecommunication connections. and I think they are already suspicious of me because they put extra attention to their staff’s activities. there are simply too many documents for me to read but the most important facts are that there are secret surveillance and money trade agreements between the uk and the us, that the government keeps tabs on seemingly random and also not so random people, and it is hinted that the latest us elections were highly manipulated. there is more but I have not had time to sift through everything, yet._

_HHJA: James, you NEED to get out of there._

_James: where the hell am I supposed to go?_

_HHJA: It would be best to leave the country altogether but I think it might already be too late for that. If they are already onto you, they will have their people put on full alert by now._

_James: are the guardian people trustworthy?_

_HHJA: Mostly, yes. The man who put you through to me seems like it, at least. I don’t know him personally because he wasn’t involved in our cooperation. But I’ve talked to him yesterday and he appeared to be trustworthy. He is working under Stewart Payne, a man whom I would trust with my life. If it ever came to that, I mean._

_James: okay, thanks. I’ll send the files to you as soon as I’ve found a place to stay. I need to get offline now._

_HHJA: Stay safe, James. And thank you for your trust._

_James: hear you soon. hopefully._

Assange had already put a lot into motion since this first contact with James. He had not heard of the man again, but he had not expected to, either. It had not even been a day yet, so just worked with what he had and hope for the best. He had already tried to hack into the GCHQ’s database to find out more about James and his findings, but due to his limited resources at the embassy he had had to give up that particular idea.

Just when he decided to work on some other stuff and maybe call Charlotte to inform her about the latest developments, a new name popped up in the still opened private chat room window. For a fleeting moment he felt the irrational fear of something having gone horribly awry with the chat’s encryption. Then again, Julian Assange did not make mistakes concerning encryption, however petty they might have been. There was only one explanation because there was also only one other person who had the link.

HHJA: Dominic Howard?

GHD: Mr Assange? How did you know it was me?

HHJA: Guardian. Howard. Dominic. Not the smartest username I’ve ever seen. What are you doing here? I told you NOT to use this link. This is definitely a breach of confidence.

GHD: I’m sorry, I was just worried.

HHJA: What for?

GHD: M. Has he already contacted you?

HHJA: M?

Assange looked at the screen in mild confusion. Usually these anonymous informants at least adhered to one alias.

HHJA: Yes, we talked last night.

GHD: What did you say to him?

HHJA: I think you have already done your fair share of intrusion here. I will get back to your newspaper as soon as we have something tangible for you. Delete this link from your history, you have nullified it anyway. I will send M a new one. Good night.

 

**Thursday, 30 th May 2013,** **07:32pm,** **London Borough of Islington**

Dominic stared at his screen in disbelief. Had this really just happened? Had he really temporarily destroyed the only means of communication between M and Assange just because he was _worried_? _Congratulations, Dominic_ , he thought to himself and palmed his forehead.

After a cup of what his mum always called the ‘get well’ tea and some more aspirin he actually felt a lot better. His mood was down again tough, after his awkward encounter with the eccentric Australian. The only things he knew now were that M had actually gotten in touch with him and that he had maybe introduced himself under a different name. Either that or Assange had already forgotten about the poor man. Why else should he have been confused by the mention of the name ‘M’?

The young man had already reached the stage of being self-righteous enough to believe in the latter possibility. Dominic was confused and frustrated to no end, mostly by himself if he was completely honest. He did not understand why he felt so protective about M, maybe it was just the fact that it had felt good to be his only confidant in this more than dangerous time of his life. This sounded so selfish even to himself that Dominic had to shake his head to get rid of that particular thought.

In the end he shut down his laptop and got up again. Maybe some work on his previous articles could get his mind off the constant worrying and the mood swings.

He just wanted M to be okay, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written a lot faster than the last chapter and I hope you enjoy it. Very big thanks and much love to my fabulous beta Alex and everyone who reads this! I published a Spotify soundtrack for this fic on my LJ. You can find the link to it at the end of this chapter.

_“The obvious, the silly, and the true have got to be defended.”_

**Friday, 31 st May 2013, 06:24am, East Barnet, London**

Thick, yellow curtains. Walls that might have been white at some point. Thin, rough sheets. Springs boring themselves into his back... where the hell was he?

Matthew jerked out of his delirious light sleep and had his heart in his mouth when he turned around frantically to take in his surroundings. His eyes fell on his jacket and two bags that were neatly tugged between the bed frame and the wall so they were hidden from anyone who might enter the room.

“Oh shit,” he sighed to himself and fell back onto the uncomfortable mattress.

London. He was in London. Of all places. Jumping onto that particular train had been nothing short of a kneejerk reaction. The fact the he had actually made it to the capital without having been caught was a miracle in itself. Matthew did not even know it but he had been very lucky to have left his flat immediately after his chat with Assange. Otherwise he would not have been in this shitty nondescript hostel, but in some dimly lit room with nothing but a table, two chairs and a one-way mirror. And probably some bulky guy in a black suit who would fire questions at him until he eventually caved in.

Now, however, he had new pressing issues to get his head around. For one thing he only had a very minimalistic wardrobe with him and for another he really had no idea how to survive on the little cash he had at disposal. It was not like he could just go to the bank and withdraw money. He was fairly certain that using his credit card would blow his cover immediately. After all, he knew his former employer’s influence and resourcefulness and he sure as hell would not go and risk everything just to get a doughnut.

Matthew sat up again with a sigh and started to look for his most important belongings. The laptop and the hard-drive were still in their bag, his wallet was hidden under the pillow alongside his little notebook, and his mobile... well, that one he had discarded as soon as he had left his flat. It had been an official gift from the GCHQ and it was painfully obvious that the agency used them to monitor their employees. Had he taken that thing with him, he would likely have been busted by now.

His arrival in London was still somewhat of a blur because he had been too occupied with looking out for potential danger and finding a place to stay. Truth be told, Matthew had not been in the capital since he had gone there on a trip with his family about fifteen years ago to visit some distant relative he could not even quite remember.

He straightened up a bit and decided that it was time to get out of bed and take a shower. Matthew was just making a mental list of the things he needed to sort out when the unexpectedly hot jet of water hit his strained back.

“Fuck,” he swore and jumped out of the bathtub and onto the slippery tiles.

He just about managed not to fall and hit his head on the toilet. Still holding on to the sink he sank down to the floor and breathed in deeply. He closed his eyes for a short moment to shake the slight vertigo. Damn his stupidly weak circulation! There was no denying it, he really needed to get some food into his system before he could even think about heading out. But buying food meant spending money and he was not sure he could afford that right now.

Eventually he got up again with a deep frown on his sharp features and tried to adjust the temperature of the shower a bit. Apparently the hostel only provided its guests with hot and extra-hot water, though, and it stank of too much chlorine anyway. By now he felt the strong urge to smash his head into the wall.

Giving up was definitely out of question but if Matthew was completely honest with himself, he had to admit he was not sure whether he could really go through with this on his own. Eventually he got dressed again and crammed his stuff into his worn backpack. There was nothing much he could do at the moment. He had his mind set on the idea of leaving the country as soon as possible but he still needed to make sure that there was a save way to accomplish that. First of all he had to find a secure way to contact Assange again. Maybe he knew how and where he should go. For obvious reasons he could not use his own laptop. Internet cafes might be the only solution to that one. It was a good thing he was very skilled in the illegal ways of encryption. Then he also wanted to track down this Dominic guy. Yes, he had been very suspicious since the MI6 incident during their conversation, but Matthew had eventually brushed it off as his usual paranoia. The journalist had been very nice and understanding after all. He would still be very cautious and not reveal himself to the guy, but there was no harm in observing him for a bit, was there? Maybe he could still help him out a bit. Not that he was planning on asking him for money, but... well.

 

**Saturday, 1 st June 2013, 11:57am, London Borough of Islington**

Dominic walked out of the office building and sighed to himself. This day had started out a lot better than the last and two good nights of sleep had helped a lot with his stupid cold. That was why he had volunteered to come in on his free weekend. Physically he felt almost back to normal and he had not had any nightmares again. His work had gone well so far and now he even planned on apologising to Stewart. That was why he was headed to Oz now. Still, the nagging worries remained.

He fumbled around with his mobile while walking down the street and thus did not notice the man who had started following him as soon as he had left the building. The wind started to pick up and Dominic already regretted that he had not taken his jacket with him. Although it had looked like there was yet another hot and sunny summer’s day ahead in the morning, dark and rather threatening clouds were swirling through the sky now. He took the last few steps in a hurry to get inside.

“Oh God, what’s up with the weather now?” he asked no one in particular when he slumped into the chair opposite Stewart who had already been waiting for the younger man.

“Well, looks like the beginning of a good summer storm,” he answered and pushed a mug of coffee towards Dominic.

“Yeah,” he sighed almost inaudibly.

“So,” Stewart started and but kept quiet after that.

“Stew, I-I’m sorry. For what I said the other day. I wasn’t exactly in a good mood and-and-,” Dominic stuttered hastily but Stewart waved him off and put his hands around his mug.

“Dominic, I’m sorry, too. You were right. I had no right to talk down to you like that. You are a responsible man and I trust you. That doesn’t mean I’m not worried for you, though.”

Dominic’s expression calmed a little and his eyes softened. “No, I know. And you have every right to be. I‘m not really myself when I’m sick and worried, so... I didn’t mean those things.”

“You really are worried for this guy, aren’t you?” Stewart gave him a small smile. “That’s one of your biggest strengths. And weaknesses for that matter. You care so much that sometimes you don’t even realise how much it can get you in trouble.”

Dominic returned the smile with a tinge of sadness and nodded. “Yeah, that’s about right. But, you know... this man is such a brave person. He did not have to go and ruin his life over the things he’s found. But he’s still risking it all just because... I don’t know, maybe because he deems himself less important than the truth? I have no idea what kind of information he has at his hands, but it must be something huge. How can I possibly not be worried? Most people would most likely just leave it be because they’re too afraid of the consequences. But not him.”

Stewart chuckled despite the serious topic. “Dom,” he sighed and shook his head a little.

Dominic pricked up his ears at the use of his nickname. Stewart had not called him that in a pretty long time. He narrowed his eyes in confusion and waited for the older journalist to go on.

“You are a very special young man, you know that?”

“Erm,” Dominic scratched the back of his head and blushed a little. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good for everyone around you. But it can be bad for you, I guess. I’ve never met anyone with such a sense of righteousness before. I hope this guy appreciates your help.”

“Actually...I’ve not been in contact with him since Wednesday night. It seems like he has talked to Assange, though.” Dominic lowered his voice on the second part. There were only a few people around but he did not want to risk being overheard.

“Hey, are you going to order something or what? You can’t just take up the space if you’re not going to buy anything!”

Both men looked around at Claire who stood a few tables away and was currently giving another customer a piece of her mind.

“Look, I’m sorry!” they heard him say. “I don’t have any money on me, but I thought I could maybe stay here until the storm’s over?”

“We’re not a homeless shelter, sorry,” she practically spat at him and Dominic was surprised by her spitefulness. She did not seem to be the person to throw someone out into the rain like this.

“Someone seems to have gotten out of the wrong side of the bed today,” Stewart mumbled to Dominic and then raised his voice to get Claire’s attention, “Darling, just bring him a coffee, will you? I’m paying.”

“No! No, thanks,” the man exclaimed nervously and got up from his seat.

His back was still turned towards them. He was wearing a grey, baggy sweater and worn jeans, his dark hair looking slightly straggly, even from where Dominic was sitting. The guy pulled his hood over his head, picked up his two bags and hurried out into in the rain before they could say anything.

“That was weird,” Dominic huffed and took another sip of his coffee.

Claire already strode back behind the counter and gave Stewart a sharp look. She was obviously in a pretty foul mood.

 

**Saturday, 1 st June 2013, 12:24pm, London Borough of Islington**

Matthew only stopped running when he had turned around the next corner and was out of sight of the cafe. It had been a stupid idea to follow Dominic into it anyway. Not from the information gathering point of view because now he at least knew that Dominic really was the genuinely nice guy he had gotten to know. But he had been bound to be busted what with not being able to pay for anything and all. He could not really blame the young woman because he looked and actually smelled a bit like a hobo. And he sure felt like one.

He had had to leave the hostel the night before because it had been too expensive and now he was practically living on the street. He had actually slept under _a bridge_. **A bridge!** Just thinking about that made his back hurt again. Yesterday had been a rather bad day in terms of... everything. Dominic had not turned up for work so he had not had any clue where else to look for him, all the internet cafes he had found had been either too full or completely empty and he was running out of money faster than he had anticipated. Plus he was growing more and more paranoid about the CCTV. What if the GCHQ already knew about his whereabouts and where just waiting for him to look at one of their many cameras? Running around with his face hidden under his hood was not really discreet and for various reasons cosmetic surgery was not an option. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He was already out of ideas.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself and sat down on the front porch of some closed shop. At least he was out of the rain again. Rubbing his wet face he stifled a small sob. Yes, he was desperate. No, he would not start crying. He needed a clear head. And an idea. Oh fuck, he so needed an idea!

Dominic. His only idea was Dominic. The journalist was the only one who might be able to help him. But how? Matthew was still too scared to reveal himself and no way would Dominic take a total stranger in, no questions asked. No one would do that and he did not expect them to.

But... Dominic had a place to stay, a computer and, most importantly, sympathy. Matthew felt bad for even considering taking advantage of that. What else was he supposed to do, though? Yes, that was the one big question going round and round his head.

He shook his head and mentally went through his expenses so far. Maybe he could find a cheap place at least for one night. A good rest might help him with finding another solution. Revealing himself and involving Dominic further by doing so was still on the very bottom of his things-that-need-to-happen list, right between sleeping under a bridge and getting caught. Fuck, this was already far too messed up.

 

**Monday 3 rd June 2013, 08:31pm, Central London**

Dominic had spent most of his Sunday with not thinking about M’s lack of e-mails or the fact that Assange was unwilling to talk to him and at least ease or confirm his worries. Today he had tried to call him. No answer. Again. He had also sent M more than three (but not more than ten!) e-mails, each growing more and more urgent in tone.

Now, after a full day of work, he felt sort of drained and wanted nothing but a bit of shallow TV and an early night in. Just as he crossed the street to the old house his flat was in, the creepy feeling of being followed settled in his stomach and made his hair stand on end. It was just like on his way home Friday night or this morning when he had left the house or on the way to Oz for his lunch break. Every time he had turned around or looked over his shoulder no one had been there, though.

 _Getting a bit paranoid, Howard_ , he chastised himself and walked up the steps to the front door. Dominic pulled out his key and wanted to open the door when he felt this tingling at the back of his neck again, like someone was watching him. He forced his breathing to stay even as he looked over his shoulder, but it nearly stopped when he actually caught someone staring back.

There was a man at the far end of the street and he was without a question looking directly at Dominic. It was already too dark to see clearly but somehow he seemed familiar.

“Hey! Hey you!” Dominic shouted in a rush boldness, but the man turned around and ran.

He immediately disappeared around the next corner. Dominic just stood there frozen in place. He was torn between following and tackling the guy and hiding in his flat. In the end his boldness had ebbed away again and the latter option seemed far more appealing. So he let himself in and hastily took the three flights up to his flat.  

 

**Monday 3 rd June 2013, 08:46pm, Central London**

“Oh fuck, oh shit, holy mother of crap,” Matthew panted when he finally came to a hold.

He crouched down next to the wall of a tall building and gripped his knees tight in an attempt to calm their shaking. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He finally needed to make a decision. Talk to Dominic or leave him alone altogether. Either way he needed to stop stalking the poor guy before it could give them both a heart attack.

“Sir, are you okay?”

Matthew’s head snapped up. He was greeted by the concerned frown of a policewoman. Oh shit, could this get any worse?

“Ye-Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks. I-I’m just...resting. Need to go home now,” he sputtered and got up bit too fast. His head felt a little woozy and he supported himself with one hand against the wall. “Just a little dizzy, s’all,” he said and then stumbled a few steps.

“Are you sure?” she asked and touched his shoulder lightly.

“Yes.” He had to stop himself from shouting frantically.

Police was bad, police might know about him already. He needed to get away.

“Okay then. Stay safe,” she replied and watched him hurry away, appearing a bit disoriented.

She sighed to herself and muttered, “Drunks.”

Matthew turned around yet another corner, clutching his bags as closely as he could. Home. Go home. Home was a makeshift shelter under a bridge made from a few cardboard boxes. He groaned heavily as he made his way back to where he had to spend yet another night. He was not sure how many nights like this were going to follow.

 

**Tuesday, 4 th June 2013, 07:15am, London Borough of Islington**

Dominic zipped up his jacket. The summer heat had made room for more chilly wind and sudden outpours of rain. Typically. London could never stay just sunny or just rainy. Especially in summer. He slung his messenger back a bight tighter around his shoulder when he left Oz with a cup of steaming coffee and walked down the road while the clouds kept looming over the city.

Just when he arrived on York Way, he felt the uncomfortable prickling at the back of his head again. Someone was definitely following him, he was _not_ paranoid. The incident yesterday night had been proof of that. He breathed in through his nose and spun around without warning. The man walking a few yards behind him froze on the spot. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy from Oz?”

Dominic furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Yes, he definitely was the guy Claire had thrown out. And he was also the guy who had been on his street the previous night.

“I-I,” the man stuttered and paused. “Do you mean the scarecrow? Or the tin man?”

Despite himself Dominic had to chuckle at that. He pointed down the way he had come and said, “The cafe. You were there and had no money. I recognise you. Why are you following me?”

“I’m... I’m not,” he replied weakly and looked down on his shoes.

“Yes, you are! I saw you last night. And you already followed me before that, right?” Dominic was not inclined to let it go now that he was facing the shadow that had been breathing down his neck for the past few days.

From up close he looked a lot less threatening than Dominic had imagined. They guy was a little smaller than him, had a slim frame, almost scrawny, his clothes were even baggier than before and stained with dirt of unknown origin. He was clutching two bags to his side like he was holding on to them for dear life. His hair looked dirty, there were dark rings under his eyes and uneven stubble took up most of his cheeks and chin. The guy looked weary and, Dominic was sure of that, haunted.

He was not exactly sure why but he felt exceptionally bad for the man. Life had definitely not been good to him.

“I... I might’ve done that, yes. And I’m sorry,” he still talked to the ground.

“But why?”

“Look Dominic, I... I need your help. Can we talk when you’ve finished work?”

Dominic’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know my name?”

“Not important right now. I just... I really need to talk to you.”

“O-Okay,” Dominic stuttered and racked his brains over where he could possibly know the guy from.

“I promise, I’m no threat to you. Can we... can we meet somewhere after you’re done?” the dark haired man almost begged and Dominic eventually caved in. “I know this all sounds weird-“

“No... no, it’s okay. Meet me here at 8pm. And then I want some answers.”

The man’s head shot up in surprise and he nodded.

“Here, take this. You look beat,” Dominic sighed and pressed his coffee cup into the man’s hands.

With that he turned around started walking again.

The man looked down at the cup in awe and shouted, “Thank you!”

Dominic smiled to himself despite the more than strange situation and made his way down the road.

 

**Tuesday, 4 th June 2013, 07:49pm, London Borough of Islington**

Matthew was frantically mulling over what he was going to say, how he wanted to explain himself to the friendly journalist. He needed to tell him the truth, there was no way around it. If he wanted help he had to be honest with Dominic, that much was clear. He was still clutching the cup that had been empty for quite a few hours now. It looked crumpled and Matthew had pealed some layers of paper from it in his nervousness.

He had spent most of the day with stealing leftovers from the outside tables of small restaurants and being sworn at over it. But he could be fast when it counted. He still had not dared to walk into an internet cafe. His paranoia was growing by the minute and by now everyone looked like a potential GCHQ agent to him.

Now he was waiting at the corner Dominic had called him on his following him. Matthew was still surprised at the few words it had taken to convince the journalist to at least talk to him. He fidgeted every time someone passed him by and he gave them furtive looks until they were out of sight.

“Hey.”

Matthew snapped out of his contemplations and swore at himself for not having been attentive enough to see Dominic approaching him.

“Hi,” he replied lamely and his hands started shaking again.

“So I’ve been beating my brains out over what you could possibly want to talk to me about and came up empty.”

Dominic was looking at him in a mixture of open curiosity and suspicion.

“I-I-We... can we go somewhere less public?”

Dominic nodded in frustration. It was obvious that he craved answers and Matthew was finally willing to give them.

“We can go, erm... I don’t know. The park?”

“Is your flat bug-proof?”

Dominic stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but do you really think I’m gonna invite the guy who stalked me into my flat?”

“Oh, erm... no, sorry. You’re right...” Matthew mumbled and averted his eyes.

“And what do you mean bug-proof? What the hell is this about? Who are you?”

“Could you please lower your voice? This is not for everyone to hear,” Matthew hissed.

The journalist groaned in confusion. “How the fuck am I supposed to know that? You practically ambushed me this morning and now you want me to keep quiet?”

“I’m sorry, but yes,” Matthew insisted and looked around frantically.

“What-What is it?” Dominic followed Matthew’s glances and then gripped the man’s shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on!”

Matthew lowered his voice even further and whispered, “Does the name M mean anything to you?”

Dominic startled and stared at Matthew with wide eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

Matthew just nodded, the gravity written all over his features. Dominic did not need to hear more. He grabbed Matthew’s arm and pulled him down the street without another word.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

[A Minority of One - O.S.T.](http://kaossbells.livejournal.com/2477.html)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always a big thanks to my lovely beta Alex! I couldn't really do this without her hawk eyes!
> 
> This chapter's quote is not taken from 1984 but from The Lake, a beautiful song by The Cooper Temple Clause. It can be found in my playlist for this fic. (Link at the end of chapter 4.)

_“Please excuse that outburst. I’m a little scared, I don’t know what came over me. What’s wrong? Don’t close your eyes. I don’t want to hurt you, I just need a little help.”_

[The Cooper Temple Clause – The Lake]

 

**Tuesday, 4 th June 2013, 08:17pm, Central London**

They had not talked on the way to Dominic’s flat and now Matthew got dragged up the stairs by the distraught journalist. His arm started to go numb a bit and he rubbed at it while Dominic unlocked the door with shaky fingers. Then he shoved Matthew inside and put the chain on the door for good measure.

“So...” He still stood with his back to Matthew, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

“So,” Matthew repeated, feeling a bit lost.

Dominic eventually turned around and stared the smaller man down with a deep frown on his face. “You... you are M?”

“Erm... yes... I’m him,” Matthew whispered and tried to make out whether Dominic was more confused than angry, but the emotions on his face seemed roughly equal.

“What are you doing here?” Dominic’s expression was still guarded and Matthew could not hold it against him. The situation was surreal. For both of them.

“I... I need your help.”

The journalist sighed and walked past his unexpected guest and into the living room. He kicked his shoes off and put his bag down next to the couch. Ruffling up his hair while trying to get his head around what was happening, he hung his jacket over a chair and then looked back up at Matthew who was still standing in the tiny hallway.

“My help,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes, you... you are the only person I could think of who might be willing to... to help me.” Matthew shuffled his feet nervously and still clutched his bags.

“Okay. Sit down.” Dominic gestured towards the couch with a nod and Matthew complied silently.

The journalist sat down on the other side of the coffee table and rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his chin and looking at Matthew in earnest for the first time now. “You look like shit, mate,” he eventually sighed and Matthew chuckled sadly.

“I know. I... I’ve been lurking about the streets for the past five days and... well, slept under a bridge,” he explained in the smallest of voices. This was definitely nothing he was especially proud of.

“You what?” Dominic could not quite believe his ears.

“Yeah, you know... I had no other option.”

“You should have approached me earlier!”

“I-I was looking for another way to manage... all of this. But I couldn’t find one. And now... here I am.”

“Yes... I see.” Dominic scratched his head and managed a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been worried for you.”

Matthew’s breathing became hitched for a moment, but he kept quiet and nodded.

“Since when have you been in London anyway?”

“Erm...” He counted the days in his head because actually he was not quite sure. “Five, I think. I stayed in a hostel for the first night and found another, cheaper one for the third. I just... I didn’t want to involve you further than I already had. But now... I didn’t see any other way. I’m sorry.”

Dominic shook his head. The guy was up shit creek and still tried to keep Dominic out of it. Although he was the only one he had trusted with his problems in the first place. Apart from Assange. But that man was locked up in an embassy.

“Listen, erm... what’s your real name? I think I deserve to know since I’m hiding you now.”

Matthew blushed a bit because he had forgotten about introducing himself properly. “I’m... I’m Matthew.”

“Okay, Matthew. Why don’t you take a shower while I try to find something edible for us? Then we can talk.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Matthew hurried to say and waved his hands around agitatedly.

“Oh yes, I do. Sorry to break it to you, but you stink. No offence,” Dominic offered with a smile tucking at his lips again.

Matthew couldn’t not return the smile and actually rolled his eyes at that. “Okay then. Where is your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, second door to the left. There are fresh towels on the rack. Do you want me to put your clothes into the washing machine?”

“Erm.” Matthew blushed again. The state he was in was kind of embarrassing but Dominic waved him off nonchalantly.

“It’s not a problem. I’m gonna put some fresh clothes in front of the bathroom door. Use whatever you need.”

With that Dominic got up and disappeared into his bedroom. Matthew sat there self-consciously for one moment until he got up with a defeated sigh and made his way to the room Dominic had pointed out to him.

 

Dominic rifled through his closet and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants and a black shirt for his surprise guest. He threw them onto his bed and found a pair of socks he could offer to Matthew.

Matthew. Fucking Matthew!

Dominic had to sit down for a moment. He was proud that he had managed to hold himself together all the way home and during their little talk in the living room. But to be honest, he was not as calm as he tried to appear. Not at all. His breathing picked up a notch and he buried his face in his hands when he heard the shower being turned on. He had not heard of the mysterious M for almost a week and now he was standing under his shower, looking (and smelling!) like hell. What could he possibly help the guy with? He was just a journalist after all. He had nothing to offer but his shower, his couch and food. But maybe that was exactly what M... Matthew needed right now. Dominic could not even imagine what he had gone through the past few days, but he was dead set on getting all his questions answered that night. Although Dominic was glad that Matthew was at least safe now, he was still confused about the circumstances under which they had finally met.

 

Matthew stood under the hot stream of water. He felt comfortable for the first time since he had arrived in London. Reluctantly he took one of the many shampoo bottles out of the shelf, squeezed a generous blotch into his hand and started massaging it into his messy hair. Afterwards he scrubbed the dirt of the past days off of his skin and watched the greyish water swirling down the drain.  He rubbed his strained neck as the last shampoo bubbles were washed out of his hair and ran down his back.

It was weird thinking that not more than an hour ago he had still been convinced that he had yet another night on cardboard boxes and out in the cold in front of him. Now he was standing under the shower of an almost-stranger. Matthew was still surprised that Dominic had taken him in without a question. Without a single word, to be exact. That man had to be the nicest (and maybe most naive) person in this whole city. Dominic might be of the opinion that he knew him, but truth be told, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Matthew was already feeling guilty again. Maybe there was a way of getting the help he so desperately needed **and** not letting Dominic be sucked into his mess. He was nothing short of amazed by the naturalness with which Dominic had allowed, no, forced him into his flat and literally shoved all his hospitality in his face. This was more than the former GCHQ employee had dared to expect.

A soft knock at the door announced the arrival of borrowed clothes and Matthew turned off the shower. He wrapped himself in one of the fluffy, beige towels and looked in the mirror. It was the first time he really saw himself since his first day in London. He looked horrible. Clean again, but still horrible. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them. His hair was too long, an unruly mop that fell into his eyes when he did not brush it back. His beard had grown all over his pale face and underneath it, his cheeks looked a little hollow. No wonder people had thought he was some fleabag. Matthew took the shaver and the foam out of his little bag of toiletries and started to free his face from the stubbly mess. His heart raced at the thought of giving answers to the questions Dominic was surely going to ask. He swallowed hard. It was the least he could do, though, now that the journalist had taken him in so willingly.

After his face was at least smooth again, he slightly opened the bathroom door and made a grab for the clothes Dominic had promised him.

 

**09:00pm**

Dominic had just set the table when Matthew padded back into the room. He looked a lot better, all fresh and clean and shaven. His eyes still looked tired, though, and his face kept this air of weariness. Now that his hair was not all greasy and straggly anymore, Dominic could at least define its colour as a dark brown. The clothes he had lend the other man looked a bit baggy on his lithe body and Dominic felt the sudden urge to feed his guest as best as he could.

“Sit,” Dominic ordered and Matthew did as he was told. The journalist’s lips curled into a small smile.

“This smells fantastic,” Matthew said and looked at the lasagne his host had prepared.

“You look like you could use some calories,” the journalist shrugged and poured them each a glass of juice.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Matthew reluctantly forking up some of the melted cheese. Dominic darted a look over the table every now and then, eventually sighing and putting his own fork down.

“Why did you come to London?” he asked. There was no need to delay this conversation any further.

“I... I needed to leave my hometown and I had nowhere else to go,” Matthew mumbled. “Assange advised me to get away from Cheltenham as soon as possible and so I did. He wanted me to leave the country altogether but I had no money and he believed that my... my employer already knew about my deceit.”

“Who is your employer then?” Dominic fixed a stern gaze on his person opposite and Matthew started to squirm.

“The... the GCHQ.”

Dominic’s eyes widened in surprise and he choked on his juice. He rubbed his hand over his mouth and looked at Matthew again. “ _The_ GCHQ?”

Matthew nodded, “The one and only.”

“But couldn’t you have gone to... I don’t know, your parents or something?”

“No, that’s the first place they would start looking for me and I don’t want to associate them with this. They don’t know that I left Cheltenham.” He swirled his fork around his plate in thought.

“And London was your first choice because...?” Dominic probed.

“To be honest? I have no idea. I just jumped that train. Maybe... maybe I somehow knew that you would help me. And Assange is here. Although he won’t be able to do much about my situation, I guess.”

Dominic nodded thoughtfully. He was itching to ask a different question but he tried to put it off for a few more minutes. Instead he sighed and enquired further, “What have you found? I mean, what could be worth the mess you’re in now?”

Matthew slumped back in his chair and looked at Dominic for a long time without saying anything. It was the first time that the journalist was directly confronted with the piercing blue eyes of his guest. He felt immobilised by them.

The brunette tapped his finger to his chin and eventually straightened up again. “Dominic, there is a lot of stuff going on out there that is not... not right. Governments are keeping secrets from their people. I haven’t had time yet to read through it all, which is, by the way, impossible for one single person because there is just too much information. But what I have found out so far is that the GCHQ, in cooperation with certain organisations and companies, spies on the people of this country. And it’s the same with the NSA in America and the BND in Germany. There are very likely more countries involved. We are under constant surveillance. Our internet and telecommunication connections are not safe from them. Then there are other things like secret money trade agreements between the UK and the US among others. There is so much stuff going wrong these days and I think that with the mass publication of the information I have... well, it could not be rectified, but don’t you think people still have the right to know? We’re living in a democracy here but the government we elected still thinks that it can do whatever it pleases without telling us. There is no such thing as transparency. At least not the way it should be. We are transparent while the government still veils itself in secrecy.”

Dominic stared at Matthew with his jaw dropped. If this was true... and the utterly sincere and agitated look on Matthew’s face left no room for doubt... then this could become the biggest story of the past few years. Centuries even. It would cause unprecedented political upheaval. Shit, they were sitting on a hyper explosive time bomb. Dominic rubbed his face and tried to calm down his racing mind. He emptied his juice glass in one go and looked back at Matthew.

“How do you wanna go about this?” he finally asked plainly.

“Erm... yeah, that’s the big question,” Matthew replied, utterly amazed by the journalist’s rational response.

“Does Assange already have the information?”

“I told him roughly what I just told you. I said that I would get in touch with him again as soon as I was safe-“

“Which would be now,” Dominic interrupted him and Matthew narrowed his eyes at him.

“The safest it gets, I guess,” he nodded after a beat.

“Well, you can use my computer. Yours is obviously out of question,” Dominic stated.

“Yes, that it is. And thank you.”

Suddenly Matthew was back to being shy and he ruffled his hair nervously. How curious. He was completely confident when he talked about the world changing information he had at his hands, but normal human interaction seemed to make him a bit uncomfortable. Which was honestly rather funny considering the flirty tone of some of his e-mails. Maybe he was the type of guy who needed to hide behind his computer to get his wit going.

“Do you think Assange might have an idea on how to proceed?”

“I very much hope so,” Matthew sighed. “This chat he set up for us was amazingly encrypted. I swear, if he wasn’t, well, Assange, the GCHQ would be dying to get him to work for them.”

Dominic cringed at the mention of the chat. Matthew apparently had not had any chance to go online since his conversation with Assange so he did not know about his faux pas yet.

“Ugh,” he scratched his head, “by the way... I talked to him. A few days back. After... after you stopped replying to my mails. I was worried and hoped he could give some, erm, answers. I logged into that chat.”

“Oh.”

“He said I nullified it and he wanted to send you a mail with another link.”

Matthew’s expression changed to one of curiosity and he actually smiled a little. “That’s okay. As long as I can get into contact with him again, I don’t really care.”

Dominic let out a sigh of relief and returned the small smile. Then he frowned again and let out a short breath. “Why did you stop replying, though? Was it because of something I said?”

“Well,” Matthew hesitated and scratched the back of his head while blushing a little, “I guess my paranoia kicked in when you made that comment about me and the MI6.”

“Oh.” Dominic let out a little giggle. “So it _was_ the James Bond joke. Sorry about that.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Matthew joined his giggling fit, “Not your fault that I’m imagining things.”

They both needed a moment to calm down again and who could blame them? The situation was so surreal that they still could not believe that it was actually happening.

When they had both sobered up again, Matthew cleared his throat. “You know, I can be gone by tomorrow.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Dominic sputtered out in shock. “You’re staying here at least until we have figured out what to do next!”

“But if they can connect you to me... this whole mess... you’re fucked.” Matthew’s hands flew through the air in wild, churning movements.

“Too late for worrying about that. I’m in and there’s nothing you can do about it.” Dominic crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the other man in all seriousness.

“No, it’s not too late! You’ve already done a lot for me and I don’t want you to suffer from it,” Matthew almost shouted and slammed his hands on the tabletop.

The journalist shook his head stubbornly and got up from his chair. “Nope, Matthew. As long there is something I can do to help you, I won’t stop.”

And that was that. Matthew stared after the man in disbelief as he started to clear the table and carry the dishes to the kitchen. How could anyone want to be involved in such a dangerous affair? Hell, _Matthew_ did not want to be involved but what other option did he have?

He was still gaping at the door Dominic had vanished through when the blond came back into the room and flashed a crooked smile at his guest as if nothing had happened. For him the matter seemed to be settled.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare or are you planning on making yourself useful?” Dominic teased easily and Matthew jumped up, slightly embarrassed.

He scooped up the empty lasagne dish and walked past Dominic who seemed to be a little surprised that his guest actually took the bait. Maybe he needed to be a bit more careful with what he said around Matthew. The guy was more sensitive than he had expected. Plus, Dominic had the feeling that he was still waiting for the catch that was surely coming with to the help Dominic was offering so freely. Sighing, he followed Matthew into the kitchen and they started loading the dishwasher.

 

**10:21pm**

Dominic had taken his spare sheets and an especially fluffy pillow out of his closet and put them on the couch for Matthew. The latter was sitting at the tiny dining table with a steaming cup of tea to his right and hit the keys on Dominic’s laptop in a frenzy. The journalist was a bit worried that his keyboard would fall victim to Matthew’s frantic smashing but he did not dare interrupt the man. Matthew had explained that he needed to install some extra security software and change some of the standard settings.

Dominic sat down in the heap of plush duvets and pillows on the couch and nursed his own cup of black tea. He had already changed into his usual plaid boxers and print tee night outfit. Now he crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, blowing cool air into his cup while watching Matthew curiously.

He leant in close to the screen and the dim light cast long shadows on his sharp features. With his shoulders hunched and his legs curled under him on the chair he looked even smaller. Dominic was amazed that this man had the potential of changing the world. The weight of responsibility he was carrying on his shoulders made the journalist swallow thickly. No single man should be burdened like this.

“Okay, I think I’m done,” Matthew suddenly exclaimed and looked over at Dominic who was shaken out of his thoughts and tried to smile encouragingly. “You know, you did a really great job considering your rudimentary encryption knowledge.”

“A great job at what?” Dominic asked and still struggled with not just staring at his guest.

“With Tor and the PGP encryption. There are serious security gaps in those systems but you managed,” Matthew grinned.

“Yeah, well, I had help from the IT staff,” Dominic replied and waved it off. Seriously, he had only just done what he got told to do with those programs.

“Anyway,” Matthew sighed, “I’m going to try that new link now. Maybe Assange is online and I can talk to him. Hopefully he has some ideas on how to proceed from here on.”

Dominic just nodded. He did not like how much Matthew depended on the Australian. Of course the guy knew his shit, but Dominic was not exactly sure that he would keep Matthew out of harm’s way if it meant a setback to his cause.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Dominic announced and got up, tea mug still tightly clasped in his hands, “I need to get up pretty early tomorrow, you might not see me in the morning. But I’ll call in sometime around noon and I can leave you the laptop.”

“Okay then. I guess I’m just gonna stay here,” Matthew trailed off and looked from Dominic to the screen again.

“Yes, you are. You cannot leave this flat until we know our next move. It’s too dangerous,” Dominic warned him with a sudden rush of determination.

“Whoa, calm down,” Matthew started and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat, “I’m not going anywhere. For now.”

The blond sighed and nodded. He needed to keep this man safe. For the sake of... of democracy? Well, that’s what he kept telling himself for the time being.

 

**10:35pm**

James: are you here?

HHJA: I am, indeed. It’s been quite a few days since I last heard of you.

James: well, I needed to find a safe place to stay. which I have. I’m in London now. with Dominic.

HHJA: I can’t say that I didn’t expect that. Although it was foolish to get here in the first place.

James: I know that.

HHJA: What are you going to do next?

James: no idea. I hoped you could tell me.

HHJA: Do you have the documents with you?

James: yes.

HHJA: You need to get them to me as fast as possible and we have to figure out a way for you to leave the country. I have already contacted a few people and there might be a way but I’ll need one or two days to figure out the details.

James: that’s good news for a change. what do you think would happen if they caught me before I can leave?

HHJA: Nothing good. The government is quite keen on getting their hands on you. I have been following their progress and I am pretty sure they are on to you by now. I haven’t heard anything about them looking for you in London, but then again, I only have very limited possibilities of accessing their system from here.

James: well, fuck. this means we’ll have to move even faster.

Matthew leant back in his chair and sucked in a laboured breath. He rubbed his forehead and felt himself breaking out in cold sweat.

HHJA: Yes. First we need to focus on the documents, otherwise all your efforts will have been for naught. You need to transfer the documents onto a CD and give it to the journalist. He can pass it on to his boss, Stewart Payne. I can have visitors here and people already know that Stewart and I are what you would call “friends”. Maybe associates is the better term. He can smuggle the CD into the embassy and he can help figure out a way to get you out of the figurative fire line. You trust that journalist, right?

James: yes, I do.

HHJA: Okay, I just needed that confirmation. If you do as I told you, everything should work out to our advantage. Keep that computer close to you, I’ll get back in touch as soon as something new turns up.

With that Assange logged out of the chat. Matthew covered his face with his hands and tried to breathe steadily but it was getting harder by the minute. _No! No, it was still good news_ , Matthew repeated in his head to calm himself down. They had a plan. He trusted Assange’s judgement. And he trusted Dominic. That was all that counted right now.


	6. Chapter 6

“ _They can't get inside you. If you can feel that staying human is worth while, even when it can't have any result whatever, you've beaten them.”_

 

**Wednesday, 5 th June 2013, 06:13am, Central London**

To say that Dominic was confused when he woke up to the frantic noises from his kitchen was an understatement. He had no idea what was going on and he felt a bit disoriented when he sat up and rubbed at his face.

“Shit!” A voice wavered through his door and suddenly the memories from last night came flooding back.

Matthew was here. He was in his kitchen. At quarter past six in the morning. What was he doing in his kitchen at quarter past six in the frigging morning? Usually Dominic had no problem with getting up early and immediately being his sunshine self but this situation was different.

The young journalist got dressed quickly and walked into the kitchen, already expecting the very worst. The smaller man was standing behind his kitchen counter, fumbling around with a frying pan and a whisk.

“Matthew, what are you doing?” Dominic asked and his guest spun around with a fright.

“Oh... sorry, did I wake you up?” Matthew replied a bit shakily and put the whisk down.

“No. Well, yes, but I had to get up anyway.” He rubbed at his eyes again and surveyed the mess Matthew had made in his kitchen.

Bits of scrambled eggs were strewn all over the counter and the floor, little puddles of milk were staining some of the freshly washed dishes and Matthew's hands looked like he had bathed them in egg yolk.

“Are you trying to make breakfast?” Dominic asked, partly amused, partly horrified.

“The emphasis is on _trying_ ,” the brunet sighed and stepped back from the stove top.

Christ, not even his face had been spared and burnt pieces of egg stuck to it.

“Why are you even up?” Dominic could not help but giggle.

He stepped over to where Matthew was standing and started to clean up. All of the younger man's attempts at making breakfast were thrown into the bin and he watched them vanish with a bit of regret.

“I couldn't sleep,” he eventually shrugged his shoulders and sat down at the tiny kitchen table.

“So you decided to wreak havoc on my kitchen?” Dominic's lips curled into a smile and he scrubbed away the remaining bits of egg from the kitchen counter.

“That wasn't my original idea, no,” Matthew sighed and picked the remnants of what was planned as a surprise thank you for his host from his cheek and nose. “I hate eggs,” he added as an afterthought.

“Seems to be a mutual feeling,” Dominic grinned and put two bowls of Fruit Loops onto the table. “I'm usually not one for breakfast anyway.”

He sat down and started spooning the cereals into his mouth.

“You know, it's not very convincing when you say that and then start to eat like you're about to starve,” Matthew commented and poked at the colourful sludge in front of him.

“Sometimes I just like some sugar in the morning.” Dominic smacked his lips emphatically.

Matthew shook his head with a small smile and tried some of the sugary goodness. He had not had those since he was a child and he really came to like them again.

“So... what's the word? Anything new from Assange?” Dominic asked after a short, comfortable silence only filled with the sounds of their chewing.

Matthew swallowed a gulp and cleared his throat before straightening up a bit. “Well, yes. That's one of the reasons why I'm up, actually. We have an idea how to get the documents into the embassy. But we'll need your help for that.”

“I'm all ears,” Dominic nodded and put his spoon down.

“Your boss, Stewart... he is... acquainted with Assange and he is the only one who can get into the embassy without raising too many suspicions. I have already copied the files onto a few blank CDs so he can smuggle them in there,” Matthew explained haltingly.

He still did not want Dominic to get into trouble for helping him, but it was clear that he needed him. Asking Stewart to do this for them was not too much of a risk for the journalist after all, was it?

“Okay. I can do that. I'm actually a bit disappointed that you're not planning on sending me in there in the disguise of a pizza boy,” Dominic chuckled light-heartedly and got up from his chair.

Matthew gaped at him. “You can't be serious! This is dangerous business!”

“Calm down, it was a joke,” Dominic waved. “I know it's dangerous. And I'm actually kinda happy that I won't have to be the one meeting Assange. The guy is... weird.”

“I am weird,” Matthew replied bluntly and that made Dominic just chuckle harder.

“Yeah, but you're nice about it.”

“Hey, you were supposed to deny that I'm weird,” Matthew sulked in mock offence.

“Sorry,” Dominic grinned. “I need to leave for work. Is Assange going to get in touch with Stewart? To figure out the details?”

“I think he wants Stewart to contact him. Wait...” Matthew jumped out of his chair and ran into the living room, followed by a confused Dominic. “Here, these are the documents. Keep them close to you. No one but your boss can know about them.”

Dominic took the CDs from Matthew and stared at them in awe.

“This is... wow, I...” He swallowed and carefully put them into his messenger bag.

“Just... don't lose them, okay?” Matthew looked at Dominic pleadingly.

“What, are you taking me for an idiot? I know what's at stake,” he journalist pouted.

“No, no! Sorry! That's not how I meant it!” Matthew hurried to apologize.

“I know. It's okay,” Dominic calmed him down again and put his hand on Matthew's shoulder. “Trust me, I'm not going to mess up. Promise.”

Matthew sighed and nodded, the hand on his shoulder unsettlingly soothing. “Okay.”

“Make yourself at home,” Dominic went on. “Just don't try to cook again. There's frozen pizza and instant soup in the kitchen.”

Matthew rolled his eyes at that but said, “I promise not to blow anything up while you're gone.”

“Phew, that's a weight off my shoulders,” Dominic mocked and put his jacket on. “I'm gonna call the land line as soon as I've got news. The screen is going to say either 'Dom Mobile' or 'Dom Work'. Do not pick up if any other number shows up.”

“Why do you have your own numbers saved along with your name?” Matthew asked in confusion.

“Well... let's just say that this has not always been a single household.”

For just a second Matthew saw some sadness showing in the journalist's shining façade and he involuntarily frowned at that. He knew better than to be nosey, though, and so he left all the questions that had immediately popped up in his head unasked when he watched Dominic locking the door on his way out.

 

**Wednesday, 5 th June 2013, 07:30am, London Borough of Islington**

“Wait, wait, wait! Can you say that again?” Stewart stared at Dominic in disbelief.

Dominic sighed and leant his elbows on the table. “Our informant. He is at my place.”

“Christ, Dominic! How did you get yourself into this mess?” Stewart tore his hair in desperation.

“He came to me for help! What would you have done? Told him it's not your business and sent him away? He was practically living on the _street_!” Dominic retorted and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, of course not, but... do you even know what they could incriminate you with now?” He started pacing his office.

“That's not our priority right now. Matthew and Assange have come up with a plan to get the documents into the embassy. And we need you for that. You can go in there without raising suspicions. You wanted this story, right? Well, this is the way to get it. You only need to contact Assange and sort out the details.”

Dominic's unusually businesslike tone made Stewart pause.”Dominic, you do realise that this is not about me getting my hands on some story, right? I'm _worried_ for you!”

Dominic sighed and nodded, suddenly deflating. “Yeah, I know. But this is bigger than you or me or Assange or... Matthew. We're journalists and it's our duty to tell people if something goes to shit like this does. Matthew told me about a few of the things he's found and... people need to know.”

“Well then... I guess we have to make it happen. How?” He sat down again. There was no point in reasoning with Dominic. He was right after all.

The younger man's face lit up. He leant over the armrest of his chair and started rummaging through his bag. “I've got the CDs here. Matthew copied the files onto them. You just need to smuggle them into the embassy.”

“What? You were carrying them around with you _in your bag_? Are you nuts?” Stewart exclaimed in horror.

“Calm down, I was careful,” Dominic groaned and rolled his eyes. Why was everyone thinking that he was an idiot?

“Careful my arse,” Stewart muttered under his breath, but took the CDs from Dominic eagerly and locked them in his desk without sparing them a single look.

“I think Assange is waiting for your call or mail or whatever,” Dominic went on. “Please let me know what you arrange. Matthew and I need to know.”

“So he's living with you now?” Stewart nodded his agreement at the instructions, but seemed to be more interested in their current living arrangement.

“Yes. I have no idea for how long, but I'm not planning on kicking him out again. He needs to keep the lowest of low profiles.”

“I see. Just be careful. Because the last time somebody stayed with you it was...,” Stewart trailed of, but gave Dominic a pointed look.

“You're not seriously going there, are you?” Dominic huffed in annoyance and got up again. “Just because I've taken Matthew in - because he needs my help, don't forget that! - doesn't mean I'm gonna propose to him or something!”

Stewart raised his hands in defence. “I'm just saying. Be careful. That's all I ask of you.”

Dominic gave him a death glare when he left the office without another word. Seriously, who was he? A child? Why was everyone thinking that he needed to be protected?

 

**Wednesday, 5 th June 2013, 12:34pm, Central London**

Matthew was sitting on the couch, snuggled up into the fluffy duvet Dominic had given to him. Some lady on the TV tried her very best to make him buy what she called a 'magic garden hose' but he did not pay much attention. The TV programme had lost his attention hours ago and now he was just sitting, lost in his thoughts.

Not more than two weeks ago his life had been normal. Not in a good way, though, because he had hated his life. There had been nothing but work and coming back to an empty flat. He had no friends in Cheltenham, just colleagues who tried to avoid him because he was the weird guy. But, truth be told, he had been more comfortable being by himself than he had been living with his family.

Matthew had not seen them in ages and the only one who had not broken off relations with him completely was his mother. She called about two times a month to see how he was doing, but in reality Matthew knew that she would move in with him if he only asked her. She had been worried for him ever since she and his father had gotten divorced. Yes, Matthew had been devastated and withdrawn after that, but after some time he had realised that his mother was fairing far better without his father. He was a right bastard, Matthew admitted to himself. As for his older brother... well, let’s just say that Paul had lost his number as soon as he had found out about his baby brother's little secret. That was also the time he had started blaming him for the divorce of their parents.

Matthew sighed and shook his head in an attempt to get rid of all those poisonous thoughts. Rationally he knew that it had not been his fault, that it had not been his father's and Paul's disappointment in him that had broken up their family. But his feelings kept telling him otherwise.

Shit, he had more pressing matters that needed tending to. Matthew almost never allowed himself to 'wallow in self-pity', as his father had always called it. And now was not the time to start with it.

Matthew got up and promptly knocked over the lamp next to the couch in his momentum. Cursing he knelt down and set it up again only to find that he had broken the light bulb.

“You colossal klutz,” he mumbled to himself and went to the kitchen. He needed to find Dominic's hoover.

 

**04:49pm**

Matthew was perched behind Dominic's laptop with a glass of water to his right. He had gotten rid of the broken glass and just hoped that he had not missed any pieces. He did not want to be responsible for cuts and a bloody carpet.

Matthew tried to focus on the article about oil transfers from the U.A.E. he had found in The Guardian's online issue. It was hard for him to concentrate, though, because his thoughts kept wandering back to his family who did not know about his predicament, to Assange who was hopefully in the middle of finding a solution for it, and Dominic... Dominic who was so kind to him and had his mind dead set on doing everything he could to help him.

Matthew sighed and sat back in his chair. How was he supposed to keep Dominic out of his mess if the guy just did not want to listen to his reasoning? The journalist was clearly under the impression that this was his problem now, too. But not if Matthew could help it. No matter what was going to happen to _him_ , Dominic was not going to suffer from it. He was not going to get arrested for being guilty by association. He was a good man, one of the best Matthew had ever known, and he wanted him to continue his life far away from any prison and keep on being that good man.

It sounded too dramatic even to Matthew’s ears. There was hope for him, too. Wasn’t there? He would get out of the country, they would reveal the scandalous secrets to the world, people would know that their governments were unscrupulously using them, he would have done the right thing and Dominic... Dominic would be safe.  

The shrill sound of a ringing telephone pulled him out of his musings and he jumped up with a start. He ran over to where it stood on a small wooden cabinet. The display said 'Dom Mobile' so he was allowed to pick up. Well, he was surely _expected_ to pick up.

“Dominic?”

“Hi.” He could literally see the man on the other end smiling. How odd. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, I... you might have to buy a new light bulb.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” Matthew breathed. “Anything new on the Assange front?”

“Yes, Stewart talked to him and they arranged for him to drop by tomorrow afternoon. He's got the CDs locked in his desk and we think it should work out just fine,” Dominic explained and Matthew let out a small noise of relieve.

“Great... that's great.”

“What do you wanna have for dinner? There is an amazing Mexican takeaway on the way back home. You up for some chicken tacos?” he asked and actually sounded excited about it.

“Tacos sound amazing. Haven't dared to use your kitchen again,” Matthew smiled into the mouthpiece.

“You could have made instant soup, you know? That's not nearly as dangerous as scrambled eggs,” Dominic chuckled.

“Oh, you have no idea,” he groaned in mock desperation.

“Well then, I'm gonna leave in about half hour and should be there around 6ish. I hope you won't blow up anything until then,” Dominic teased and Matthew rolled his eyes.

“I promise. No explosions. See you later. And don't forget the food,” he said, smiling.

“Wouldn’t dare to. Bye!” And with that Dominic hung up.

 

**06: 13pm**

It was a weird feeling to actually come home and not be alone there, Dominic thought when he unlocked his door and tried to open it. He was stopped in his tracks, though, when he slammed against the door. What the hell? It refused to open wider than a few inches. Oh, Matthew had put the door chain in place.

“Matthew? Hey, can you open the door for me?” he shouted and Matthew immediately came running.

“Oh, sorry!” he mumbled when he took the chain off and let Dominic in.

“No problem. It’s good that you put it there,” he grinned and locked the door behind himself again.

Matthew started eyeing the brown bag in Dominic’s hand right away. It smelled amazing and his stomach was already making desperate noises.

Dominic chuckled. “I take it you’re hungry?”

“Erm... a bit?” Matthew smiled sheepishly.

Dominic pressed the bag into Matthew’s hands and put his jacket on the rack. “If you bring this into the kitchen, I’m gonna get ready and we can start eating.”

Matthew nodded and vanished into the kitchen. Dominic smiled to himself and made his way into his bed room. He undressed slowly and got into his sweat pants and one of his newer shirts. Yes, it was undeniably weird to have someone waiting for you at home again. But it was also kind of nice.

Matthew was nice. He made Dominic feel like he could tell him everything. Actually the urge to do so was growing stronger and more urgent by the minute. He wanted to tell him about his past, about the break up, about his mother, about his job, but he just... He had no idea whether Matthew even wanted to know anything of that. Whether he was actually interested in the life of his host. Dominic sighed as he put his socks on. Well he sure as hell was curious about Matthew’s life. But maybe that was just him. He had always been interested in people. And Matthew was especially intriguing. Shy, quiet, reserved, desperate, nerdy, fidgety, passionate, intelligent, flirty... all those were character traits and emotions he had already experienced in the guy. And he was strangely eager to find out more.

Rubbing at his face, he got up again and tried not to think about Matthew too much because it felt kind of wrong.

When he got back into the living room to turn on the radio, he was a bit surprised to find the table set and the food ready to be eaten. Matthew was sitting in his ‘usual’ spot and looked up at him impatiently.

Dominic sat down without a word, but grinned at his guest. They started eating and chatting about everything and nothing. It was... it was a pleasant evening. For both of them.

 

**Thursday, 6 th June 2013, 02:29pm, Knightsbridge London**

Stewart knocked on the white door. He had never been at the embassy before but it was roughly what he had expected. Bright corridors, shiny wooden floors and tasteful paintings on the walls.

“Come in,” he heard Assange say from the other side of the door. And so he did.

The room itself looked a little less tidy and presentable, but that was to be expected, too. Assange was living in here, after all. There was a small sofabed in the far left corner, a messy desk in the middle of the room and some bookshelves next to the windows on the right. There were also at least two laptops as far as he could see. Considering this was Assange’s room, there were most likely more stacked somewhere.

The man himself was seated on the sofa, his feet propped up on the small table in front of it, with one of the laptops perched on his lap. Stewart stood there for one uncomfortable moment while Assange eagerly typed away on the keyboard. He pursed his lips in thought and then shut the computer, finally looking up at his visitor.

“Stewart. Long time no see,” he said and got up with a quiet groan, stretching his back a bit.

“Julian. Yes, it’s been a rather long time, hasn’t it?”

They shook hands and Assange sat down behind his desk, gesturing for Stewart to take the chair on the opposite side. Stewart crossed his legs and waited for the other man to sort through the mess on his desk. Assange eventually sat back and looked at him intently.

“So...,” he began and Stewart did not miss how his hands started to fidget a bit. “James sent you the documents?”

Straight down to business. Yes, that was Assange. “Yes, he did.”

Both men were still acting a bit reserved although they had known each other for a few years. Considering their situation, though, this was not surprising.

Assange sighed. “I guess you’re holding the whip hand here. How do you wanna go about this?”

“It’s not a contest, Julian. We’re working on the same side,” Stewart felt the need to remind him. “I have the documents, our informant... James or whatever he calls himself... wants them to be published on WikiLeaks and I want the story. I already have a team at hand and we’ll start working on the material as soon as you’ve got it, too.”

“Well then,” Assange started but Stewart cut him short.

“You’ve got no say in the publication outside of WikiLeaks. I’m responsible for the cooperation with other papers. Just to be clear.”

Assange gave him a forced nod. Maybe Stewart had said that it was not a contest, but it obviously was. Sort of.

“I think I can live with that. WikiLeaks is not doing this for fame and glory anyway.”

“And neither is The Guardian. But if there are no agreements, everything is going to end in chaos. We don’t want that.” Stewart gave the Australian a pointed look and crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, we don’t.” Assange did not look happy at all, though.

“There are some conditions to the publication on WikiLeaks. First, you cannot put anything online before James is out of the fire line and my team is ready for publishing, as well. We need to work on this together. Second, he stays anonymous until further notice. And third, I do not want Dominic to get involved any further. He told me that you were working on a plan to get the guy out of the country. As soon as you’ve figured something out, I want you to tell James that he cannot tell Dominic where he is going. Otherwise the deal is off.”

It was painfully obvious that Assange was more than uncomfortable with Stewart being in control of the situation. Usually he was the one pulling the strings, but this time he was the one who had to nod his head if he wanted to get anything out of it.

“I think I can work with that,” he eventually agreed. “Now, about those documents...”

Stewart pulled the six CDs out of his bag, showed them to Assange and put them down on the table between them but left his hand lying on top of them.

“So we have a deal?”

Assange managed a laborious smile. “I guess we do.”

Stewart looked nothing less than smug when he took his hand off the CDs and the Australian pulled them towards himself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but this one took me quite some time. It's also a bit longer than usual, I hope that's okay with everyone. A lot of credit goes to my dearest Lici for brainstorming with me. There's one scene with a lady that she helped me with. Also big thanks to Paula (who'll probably never see this) for planning the plan with me.

_“Felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Pressure to break or retreat at every turn. Facing the fear that the truth had discovered. No telling how all this will work out, but I’ve come too far to go back now.”_

[Anthony Hamilton & Elayna Boynton - Freedom]

 

**Friday, 7 th June 2013, 05:02am, Central London**

Dominic stood in the kitchen and stirred the red sauce when someone came up behind him and put their arms around his torso, pressing their stomach flat against his back. His lips curled at the corners. He knew exactly who this person was and his whole body was on fire in an instant. Turning around slowly, he put his hands to the slightly smaller man’s face and tried to look into the heavy-lidded, blue eyes. Matthew smiled sleepily and quickly pecked him on the lips.

Dominic took a moment to appreciate the sight. He was clad only in a pair of Dominic’s boxers. They hang loosely around his sharp hipbones and the dark red made his skin look even paler. Dominic loved it.

The blond licked his lips in anticipation when he lowered his face a bit and pressed them to Matthew’s without warning. Matthew’s eyes closed and he invaded Dominic’s personal space further by pressing himself against the journalist. Dominic mewled softly and turned them around easily to push Matthew up against the kitchen counter.

His skin felt tingly and his stomach fluttered expectantly when his hands started roaming over the lithe body trapped between his own and the counter. Matthew practically melted into him and Dominic felt something hot and hard press into his thigh. Oh God, how he loved it!

“Matthew,” he whispered into his ear breathlessly and Matthew gasped softly.

“Dom,” he answered and bit Dominic’s lower lip as the blond looked him in the eyes again.

“Matt,” Dominic drawled as if he was trying the weight of the name on his tongue. “Matt.” Eventually he nodded slowly and smiled. “I like that.”

It did not take Dominic long until Matthew was writhing beneath his every touch and, fuck, he loved it! He was surprised to find this body that looked like it was made of nothing but sharp angles and inflexible, cold bones to be so soft and warm and smooth.

“Mmmmh, Matt,” he moaned into Matthew’s mouth as he rocked their hips together. “Matt, uggh!”

“Dominic!” Matthew replied, no less ecstatic, and gripped his shoulders to steady himself.

“Dom,” Dominic corrected him with a crooked grin.

“Dominic!” Matthew almost shouted and started shaking him not so gently.

He gave him an irritated look and repeated, “Dom.”

“Dominic!”

 

Dominic groaned and blinked in confusion. What the fuck? A pair of hands held his shoulders tightly and had only just stopped to shake him frantically. When he finally managed to open his eyes in earnest, a set of worried blues were staring back at him.

“Matt?” He squeaked a bit unmanly and he totally would have jumped out of the bed if it had not been for the compromising evidence of his not so innocent dream about Matthew.

“Matt?” Matthew asked sheepishly and leant back again to give Dominic more space.

He was sitting on the very edge of the mattress and looked like he was prepared to leg it if need be.

“Eerrrr, yeah... no... sorry. Just... got confused, s’all,” Dominic explained in a mumble.

“I... I just heard noises and thought you were having a nightmare,” Matthew tried his very best not to stutter.

“No, I...thanks, but no, it was... a nice dream.” He gave his guest and subject of his latest almost sex dream a pointed look.

“Oh. Oh! Oh God, I’m sorry! I totally misinterpreted that! Oh shit.” Matthew got up and made a quick escape with his deep red face buried in his hands.

Jesus Christ! Dominic threw himself flat on the mattress and hid his face in the pillow. This was surely the most awkward awakening he had ever experienced. Shit, shit, shit. He had not had dreams like this in a very long time. Why of all times did it have to happen _now_? And about Matthew? Seriously, this was fucked up beyond comprehension. The man had other things to think about than Dominic lusting after him. He had never felt this inappropriate.

Hopefully Matthew had not realised who exactly his dream had been about. Otherwise Dominic would not be able to meet his eyes ever again.

He made a grab for his mobile to check the time. It was only twenty past five, but he sure as hell would not be able to fall asleep again after this little encounter. Groaning in frustration he rolled over and got up. He could just as well take a shower and get rid of his little problem before he had to face Matthew again.

 

**06:15am**

Matthew curled up under his duvet on the sofa when Dominic finally entered the living room. He pretended to be asleep but he was blushing furiously when he heard the other man’s footsteps approaching. There was no way he would manage to look at Dominic now. He had shaken him out of a fucking sex dream for Christ’s sake! It was definitely a good thing that Dominic had been so confused and groggy because otherwise he might have noticed Matthew’s staring. Yes, he had been staring at Dominic’s obvious morning wood. Only thinking about that made him blush even more and it felt like his face was on fire.

He tried to hide it by carefully pulling the duvet over his face. Sleeping people did that, right?

“Matthew?” he heard Dominic whisper from across the room.

It was a painfully half-hearted attempt at waking him which Matthew rewarded with staying pretend-asleep. He knew that Dominic was just as keen about talking about it as he was. Not at all, that was.

He could hear him leaving the room with a, as he thought, relieved sigh. The thing now was that Matthew had initially been on his way to take a piss when had heard Dominic groaning and tossing and turning in his bed. That piss had never been taken, though, and it was getting more urgent by the minute. Matthew tried to ignore it but did not manage to do so for much longer.

Eventually he peeked out of his little shelter. No Dominic in sight. He was probably still in the kitchen. Maybe Matthew could just sneak past the door and then lock himself in the bathroom. He needed to take a shower anyway so he had a perfectly valid excuse for staying in there until Dominic had to leave for work. Good in theory, at least.

Matthew stood up carefully and tiptoed to the kitchen door to and darted a glance around the doorframe. Dominic was standing at the coffee machine with his back to him. Taking in a deep breath he scurried down the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him.

“Matthew?” Dominic’s voice came through the door. “Are you alright?”

“Yes!” Matthew squeaked immediately. “Just... taking a shower.”

“Okay. I... I hope you’re not...” the other man stammered and then sighed. “Anyway, I’m off to work now! See you tonight.”

“Have a... have a nice day! See you tonight!” Matthew replied lamely and mentally kicked himself.

He heard the front door falling shut and sat down on the toilet lid. He felt enormously stupid. This was ridiculous. They were both grown men and should be able to deal with it. But instead they were behaving like awkward teenagers.

With a groan he got up again and took the shower he needed right now. An especially cold one.

 

**09:37am**

Dominic had called him Matt. No one had done that in quite some time. It was weird because he had never told him to call him by his nickname. It was even weirder because it had been after their strange encounter. Did this mean something or was he imagining things? Yes, he was probably imagining things. He always did that.

Sighing Matthew got up from the sofa and turned off the telly. He had managed to put things into perspective and was now pretty sure that it must have been a coincidence. There was no way Dominic had dreamed about... him. Yup, pure coincidence. Matthew did not even know whether Dominic swung that way. Thinking about it now he found it weird how little he actually knew about the guy.

 

**10: 24am**

Matthew was getting fidgety. He hated being confined to the flat without anything to do. He had been wandering about the place restlessly for the past twenty minutes and was sure that he had already ploughed a path into the carpet. Assange had still not gotten back to him, he had no idea what was going on with the documents he had given to The Guardian and WikiLeaks, Dominic would stay away for at least another few hours and he had nothing to do. Nothing at all.

Usually he was a pretty quiet person (except for those times when he was not) and just did not know what to do with all the restless energy that kept building up inside him. He sat down at the table in the kitchen and looked out of the window. Heavy, grey clouds were hanging in the sky and the wind was blowing over the rooftops relentlessly.

Matthew’s thoughts started to wander back to something Dominic had said a few days back. “ _This has not always been a single household_ ”

What did that mean? Well, Matthew was well aware of what it meant. But who had he been living with? A flat mate? No, this place was not meant for friends to share. A girlfriend? Or…a boyfriend? No, that would have been too much of a coincidence to be true. There were not many possibilities left, though. He had not lived here with his mum or dad; that much was clear. And what a hideous thought to begin with.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” he mumbled to himself and got up again. A hacker’s gotta do what a hacker’s gotta do.

 

**03:38pm**

Dominic’s flat was a complete mess. There was no way to gloss that over. Drawers were opened, rummaged through and sometimes even emptied. Boxes over boxes were strewn across the floor and their contents spread between them. Books lay open on the tables and a stack of CDs was sloppily placed in front of the CD player. To top it off Rage Against The Machine’s Freedom blared through the flat.

And in the middle of it all Matthew was sitting on the floor, flicking through a photo album and singing along at the top of his voice. He had never been a stickler for social conventions, really. Together with his natural curiosity this made for a very dangerous combination.

He had found out a lot about his host on his quest of getting to know Dominic James Howard. (Maybe Matthew enjoyed the fact that they shared their middle name a little too much.) He had a very diversified taste in music, he loved classical literature and even a little bit of experimental art. He also seemed to be quite into action movies like Indiana Jones and James Bond.

What was more important, though, was that Dominic _really_ was kind in every respect, smart to the point where Matthew started doubting himself, popular among his friends and colleagues, dearly loved by his family… and apparently pretty lonely in spite of everything.

The holiday cards had pretty much stopped coming in after he had moved to London in 2011. Matthew’s guess was that his work had prevented him from staying in contact with most of his friends in Teignmouth and from university. There were only a few pictures of his time in the capital but a lot of articles and sketches and folders filled to the brim with notes on his research. The guy was more than passionate about his work, there was no way denying that.

Still, Matthew had not found any clue about who Dominic had been sharing this flat with. No letters, no pictures, no nothing.

With a frustrated sigh he shut the photo album in his lap, put it back into the box he had found it in and pushed himself off of the floor. His stomach started rumbling furiously and he made his way back into the kitchen. The only room in the flat that did not look like a tornado had wrecked it. Yet.

 

**Friday, 7 th June 2013, 04:12pm, London Borough of Islington**

Dominic sat at his desk and absently fumbled through a thin stack of papers. He still needed to finish an article about some ongoing police investigation. Apparently a gang of boys kept breaking into sheds to steal bikes but was pretty professional about it. Eventually he found the interview transcript he had been looking for and started scratching out parts he did not necessarily need.

It was an utterly unnerving thought that he was sitting here, writing about some trivial case of juvenile delinquency while he was involved in the almost secret preparations for the hopefully fatal blow to the government’s invulnerability.

His hands started shaking when he thought about all the possible outcomes. Of course he knew that he was in danger of getting caught now, too. Of course he was thinking about his own safety, as well. And of fucking course did he know that this whole affair had the potential to change his life forever. What he knew too, though, was that he could not leave Matthew alone with it. Poor, shy Matthew who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders right now and needed nothing more than a good friend to help him but would never ask for it directly. Well, he had asked for Dominic’s help, of course. But he would not ask him to risk anything more for his sake. Dominic was sure of that.

Just one more reason why is stupid dream had thrown him off kilter. Yes, he admitted to himself, underneath all the floppy hair and carefully built **façade** Matthew was a pretty interesting and attractive guy. Dominic was self-assured enough to acknowledge that. But, come on, they had so much more important problems to deal with. Maybe if they had met under different circumstances he would have already shown his interest. Although he did not know if Matthew even swung that way.

A long, sullen breath escaped his lips and he tried to brush the thoughts of Matthew off. There was still an article that needed to be finished before the editorial deadline.

 

**Friday, 7 th June 2013, 05:01pm, Knightsbridge London**

“Yes. Yes, exactly,” Assange sighed into his phone. “Come to the place to which I sent you the address and stick to what I told you. More instructions are on their way. And contact Charlotte as soon as possible. I didn’t manage to reach her.”

With this he hung up and put his mobile down on the table. With a deep sigh he started to massage his temples. One of those annoying headaches was forming behind his forehead again and he groaned inwardly.

Although he knew the line was secured, he did not want to give out any explicit information over it. He had sent out a few highly encrypted e-mails to people who might be able to help getting Matthew out of England. There were still a few variables that required thorough thinking and planning but all in all the plan was on its way to be put into action.

Assange did not like the conditions Stewart had put forward, though. Despite what people thought of him, he _did_ care about his fellow human beings and it was not sitting right with him that Matthew (yes, he knew his name now, after some extensive research) had to leave without telling his confidant. Granted, he did not know much about this Dominic guy apart from his nosiness and constant worrying, but it seemed like Matthew trusted him and that was enough for Assange. He knew from first hand experience that under circumstances like these you needed someone to lean on. It was not easy to deal with the constant pressure and the looming unknown and they really could not afford Matthew to break under it. Especially not now that The Guardian and WikiLeaks were already working on the publishing of those documents.

Not for the first time he wondered whether Matthew was even aware of how drastically his decision to go public would change his life forever. One good thing was, though, that he still had the advantage of anonymity. The question was how long they would be able to keep that up.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his musings and one of the embassy’s secretaries came in with his coffee, a bottle of water and a pack of aspirin. Bless her.

 

**Friday, 7 th June 2013, 06:22pm, Central London**

“Damn you, stupid pizza,” Matthew growled when he opened the oven and billows of smoke immediately started to fill the kitchen. He glared at the piece of coal he had intended to eat and coughed a bit.

Sometime between his attempt at cooking spaghetti alongside his mother’s glorious tomato sauce and the burnt pizza incident he had actually managed to tidy up a bit. Most of the boxes were filled again and there was at least enough space to walk without stumbling over anything.

“You.” A voice suddenly sounded from behind him and he froze when something round and cold was pressed between his shoulder blades.

Ever so slowly he started to raise his hands and turn his head. Shit, how did they find out where he was? Fuck, fuck, fuck, everything was over. But at least he had been able to pass on the documents.

His heart was racing and his head went a bit fuzzy when he finally managed to dart a look at the person behind him. He had to do a double take. No, seriously? A tiny old lady was standing behind him, fiercely pressing her cane into his back.

“Who are you? What are you doing in this flat?” she demanded and Matthew gulped down some air.

“I-I’m Matt,” he introduced himself quickly. How the hell did she get into Dominic’s flat?

“Turn around, Matt,” she said and took a step back but did not lower her cane. “Why are you here? How do you know Dominic?”

“Oh, erm...I’m a friend of his?!” Matthew replied, unsure where this would lead.

“A friend? What kind of a friend?” Shit, that lady might have been old but she sure as hell was still sharp as a knife.

“Just... a friend,” he said with uncertainty thickly tingeing his voice. “He invited me to stay for a bit... I’m, erm, passing through.”

“Passing through, eh?” she commented, finally taking her cane down and looking him up and down thoroughly. He squirmed under her scrutinizing eyes, suddenly uncomfortably aware of Dominic’s clothes on his skin.

“Yeah.” He fumbled with his hands nervously and he glanced around the kitchen, a bit embarrassed by the state it was in. “I was, erm, trying to cook.”

“That didn’t turn out too well,” she stated and took a look around. “Well then, let’s get down to work. Dominic should be back soon and we don’t want him to see this, do we?”

Matthew found himself dumbfounded. Who was this lady and what the heck was she doing here?

“Sorry but who are you?”

“Me? I’m Elizabeth, Dominic’s neighbour from across the hall. I’m also a friend of his mother and I’m looking after him when he doesn’t.” There was so much force and commitment behind her last statement that Matthew immediately felt guilty. Guilty for everything he was putting Dominic through.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I heard these noises from his flat and I thought I should check.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to freak you out,” Matthew said with an apologetic look on his face.

“You didn’t freak me out, boy.” She rolled her eyes at him and startled Matthew by patting his shoulder. “I just thought you were some burglar that needed to be taken care of.”

“Oh... well, good for me I’m not a burglar, I guess,” Matthew replied, still a little baffled.

“Good for you indeed,” she nodded and, to his further surprise, started cleaning up the kitchen counter and taking pots and pans out of the cupboards like she owned the place.

 

**07:15pm**

“I’m still hurt that Dominic didn’t introduce us. I’m like a grandmother to him. Well, I like to think of myself as an older aunt, but it’s just a matter of semantics, really. Anyway, what was I saying? Ah, yes. I’m hurt. You see, he usually tells me when something good happens in his life because he knows that it makes me happy when he is happy. And now you happened and he didn’t tell me. It makes me think. Why is it that he doesn’t want me to know about you?” Elizabeth soliloquized while intently studying Matthew’s every feature.

They were sitting at the tiny kitchen table and Matthew’s jaw literally crashed into the table top.

“I... erm... maybe... I think it’s just not important enough. He didn’t want to get you worked up over nothing. I’m just, you know... passing through,” he mumbled into his cup of tea and kept his eyes down.

“Rubbish! I know Dominic. He wouldn’t let you live here and wear his clothes if you weren’t important to him. Trust me, I know my boy,” she replied surprisingly softly and patted his hand in sympathy.

 _Wait. Sympathy? What for?_ Matthew looked at her again, the question written all over his face.

“You really think so?” he asked in a small voice.

“Oh yes! Especially after the last time someone lived with him. He is the kindest and most open-hearted person I know, but that arsehole stabbed him right in the heart and left him bleeding. Personally I’d always hated that guy. He’d been living off Dominic like a parasite but the poor boy had been head over heels in love and therefore too blind to realise what was going on. And before he knew it, the bastard was cheating on him.” Elizabeth’s voice was full of disgust and pure contempt and Matthew really felt her.

But at the same time Matthew’s thoughts went riot. Dominic _was_ gay. He had been living with a guy who had hurt him badly. Matthew felt like hacking into that guy’s computer and showing him exactly how bad it could get. What kind of a person would ever be able to consciously hurt Dominic a.k.a. the most selfless and kindest guy the world had ever seen?

“I wanna rip that guy to shreds,” he mumbled under his breath without even realising that he was actually talking.

Elizabeth smiled at him warmly. “You’re a good guy, Matt. Dominic is lucky to have you.”

“Come again?” In what way did he have him?

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy.” She winked at him and got up again to stir the sauce.

Matthew was just sitting and stared at her back. She was not implying what he thought she was, was she?

 

**07:32pm**

Dominic turned the key in the door lock and was immediately met with the rich smell of tomato sauce and several spices when he stepped into his flat. There was chatter coming from the living room and all his senses instantly went into alert mode.

“Matthew?” he called out.

“Living room!” the reply came immediately.

Frowning a little he walked into said room and found Matthew sitting at the dining table with Elizabeth. They both looked up smiling and Dominic’s frown deepened.

“Elli? What are you doing here?”

“Way to greet an old lady, Dommy,” she commented easily and got up to hug him.

Dominic gave Matthew a questioning look over her shoulder, but he just shrugged and had to suppress a giggle at the pet name.

“I came over because I heard noises that shouldn’t have been there. And look who I found,” she explained and turned around to Matthew. Then she looked back at Dominic accusingly. “How come you didn’t tell me about your delightful visitor? You shouldn’t feel like you need to keep your love life a secret. I don’t judge and you _know_ that.”

“Love life?!” Dominic gaped from Elizabeth to Matthew who simply shrugged again.

“Oh stop it, Dominic,” she chastised him and walked past him and off into the kitchen.

Dominic gave Matthew a look that was clearly implying the need for answers.

“She made assumptions and I didn’t correct her. It’s not like I could’ve told her the truth, anyway,” Matthew hissed quietly.

“Yeah, but... now she thinks we’re involved and how am I supposed to explain this to her? She’s going to be so disappointed,” Dominic hissed back, but quickly shut up when Elizabeth came back with two plates and two sets of cutlery.

“I’m going to leave you two alone now. I just wanted to make sure that Matt here wasn’t too bored until you came back,” she said and put the plates down.

“And you did a really great job, Elizabeth,” Matthew grinned at her and secretly enjoyed the way Dominic squirmed, clearly still uncomfortable with the situation.

“Oh please, call me Elli.” She returned the smile and bent down to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thanks, Elli.”

“Good boy,” she said and patted his shoulder before she turned around to face Dominic.

“And you take good care of him, he’s a keeper.”

Dominic felt a little disturbed by the way she winked at him. She hugged him again and kissed his cheek as well.

“Have a good night, boys.” She waved her goodbyes and then left the flat.

“What a brilliant woman.” Matthew practically beamed at Dominic. “Although I’ve got to admit that she scared the shit out of me when she threatened me with that cane. At first I thought it was a gun.”

“What the hell, Matthew?” Dominic cut him short and took a quick look around his living room. There were still a few boxes and books scattering the floor and the coffee table.

Matthew followed his look and suddenly blushed a little.

“Oh that... I... I’m sorry. I should have tidied up again.” He scratched his neck in embarrassment at having been caught.

“Tidied up again? What were you even doing with this stuff?”

“I...,” Matthew mumbled, “I hacked your flat.”

“You hacked my flat?” Dominic looked at him, dumbstruck.

“That’s what hackers do. Granted, I didn’t do a very tidy job,” Matthew shrugged sheepishly.

“But... why?” There was too much stuff going on for Dominic to comprehend.

“I wanted to know... well, I wanted to know more about you.” No need to lie now.

That took Dominic a bit by surprise and he sank down into the chair opposite Matthew, deflating with a heavy sigh.

“Are you happy with your research?”

Matthew cringed at the accusing undertone and shrank into his chair. “Sorry, I... I went too far.”

“Damn right, you did,” Dominic huffed. “If you wanted to know more about me you could’ve just asked, you know?”

Matthew nodded guiltily and looked down at the empty plate in front of him. Dominic eyed him for a while and eventually sighed. He really did not feel comfortable with the thought of Matthew having gone through his personal belonging but he found that he could not be mad at him. Not really. To at least keep up the pretence he leant on his knees and said, “I guess you can make it up to me, though.”

Matthew’s head shot up with a look of hope on his face. “How?”

“Well, serving dinner would be a start. I’m starving.” Dominic smirked inwardly when Matthew nodded enthusiastically, jumped up, took their plates and practically sprinted into the kitchen.

“Don’t smash anything, please,” he called after him and chuckled quietly.

It did not even take Matthew two minutes until he returned with two laden plates of deliciously smelling pasta. He put one down in front of Dominic and sat down with his own.

Dominic dug in unceremoniously and smiled around his mouth full. “This is fantastic!”

Matthew blushed again. “Elli helped me out. Without her we would have to eat burnt pizza now. But it’s my mother’s recipe.”

Dominic grunted in acknowledgement and kept on shovelling the pasta into his mouth.

 

**08:01pm**

After dinner they sat down in front of the TV and Dominic turned on the news while Matthew busied himself with putting away some of the books that were still lying open on the coffee table.

“I can tidy up right now if you want,” Matthew offered, still not quite sure about Dominic’s overall mood.

“Nah, it’s okay. You can do that tomorrow,” he smirked and patted the sofa next to him, indicating for Matthew to sit down. “So... Matt?”

Matthew huddled into the pillows and smiled a little. “Yeah, I... kinda introduced me as Matt.”

“I see. So... can I call you Matt? Or do you prefer Matthew?”

“Matt is okay. Doesn’t really matter, I guess. It’s just been a really long time since someone had called me that.”

“Matt... I like Matt,” Dominic grinned and put his feet on the coffee table, comfortably leaning back into the sofa. “It sounds less... fancy.”

“Fancy?” Matthew giggled. “Dominic isn’t that casual, as well.”

“Well, you could always call me Dom,” Dominic offered.

“Or maybe Dommy?” Matthew chuckled and Dominic shuddered.

“No, definitely _not_ Dommy.”

“Okay then,” Matthew finally full out laughed and turned around to face Dominic. He reached out his hand for Dominic to shake, but the other man just gave him a blank stare before taking his hand uncertainly.

“Hi, I’m Matt,” Matthew smiled.

“Hi, Matt,” Dominic returned the smile, suddenly understanding what Matthew was after. “I’m Dom. Nice to meet you.”

 

**Saturday, 8 th June 2013, 05:47pm, Central London**

Matthew had spent the greater part of the day tidying up the mess he had made the day before. Now he was stretched out on the sofa, Dominic’s laptop in his lap. As always the chat window was open in the background as he was browsing the news. There was still no indication that the GCHQ was openly looking for him. He supposed that it was a relatively good sign. Or maybe not, he wasn’t sure.

He was pulled out of his ponderings when the tab with the chat window started to flash in orange. Assange!

Matthew switched to the tab in question and read the Australian’s message.

HHJA: We are ready.

Matthew’s heart started racing as he typed out his answer. The uncertain waiting was over.

James: tell me everything.

HHJA: We need to operate quickly. One of my acquaintances has found a reliable person who is willing to make you a fake ID. Said acquaintance is going to pick you up tonight at 2am. It is essential that you leave the house at exactly that time. His name is Tom and he is going to drive a grey Volkswagen Lupo with a ‘Baby on Board’ sign in the back. First he is going to take you to get your fake ID. Your new name is Daniel Morrison. From now on you are an accountant from New Jersey. They will provide you with clothes, hair dye and glasses. At 6am sharp Tom is going to take you to Dover, across the Channel and to Calais. Tom has an encrypted document for you. You can find part two of the plan in there. We have to work in stages. The final goal is to get you to Minsk, Belarus. You are going to get a new part of the plan at the end of each stage.

Matthew gaped at the screen. This whole plan raised more questions than it answered. It sounded beyond dangerous but he had to admit that it was probably his only way out of this country. Planes and trains were obviously out of question.

James: why belarus?

HHJA: It is the only country in the ‘vicinity’ that does not have extradition treaties with the UK and the US.

Fair point.

James: okay. what about the remaining documents? I did not put all of them on the cds I gave to you. as a precaution.

HHJA: I already thought so. Take them with you. Do not leave any traces at the journalist’s place.

James: I won’t.

HHJA: It is also of great import that you do **not** tell him where you are going. You cannot even tell him that you are leaving at all. It is part of the agreement I have with Stewart Payne. He does not want him to get involved further.

Matthew’s heart stopped. He was not allowed to tell Dominic? At all? But... after all Dominic had done for him he was supposed to leave him without so much as a goodbye? No, that felt all kinds of wrong.

James: I cannot do that.

HHJA: I am sorry, but I have to be very strict about this. You either stick to this plan or it is off completely. Do you want to endanger his life?

James: no, of course not.

HHJA: Then stick to the plan.

Matthew’s shoulders sagged and he hung his head. He knew it was not Assange’s fault and that he had put a lot of effort into this plan, but right now he just wanted to punch the man in the face. It took him a few moments until he could type out his reply.

James: I will.

 

**08:19pm**

Dominic and Matthew were once again sitting at the dining table. Work had been okay today, although not overly exciting or challenging. Dominic felt like Stewart was trying to keep him busy with petty work like small articles about the local economy and proof-reading for his colleagues.

He told Matthew as much and the other man tried to be attentive and kept nodding sympathetically. Otherwise he was unusually quiet, though. That bothered Dominic more than he cared to admit.

“So... how was your day? Any news?” he eventually asked.

“I tidied up,” Matthew stated the obvious. The flat was practically shining. “And no, no news,” he added in a quiet mumble.

Dominic let out an annoyed huff and said, “Feels like Assange’s got his priorities wrong.”

Matthew just nodded and kept picking at his food absentmindedly.

“Matt, is... is everything alright?”

Matthew sensed Dominic’s worry at his behaviour and looked up again. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a little tired, ‘s all. I think I’m gonna hit the sack early today.”

With that he got up, took his still laden plate and vanished into the hallway. Only a moment later Dominic heard the bathroom door close. He had no idea what was going on and sighed heavily.

 

**Sunday, 9 th June 2013, 06:00am, Central London**

He had no idea why but he woke up with the sudden feel of worry. It was still early and today was his only free day this week. Still, Dominic was wide awake when he sneaked through the halfway opened living room door. He had to look twice because he just could not believe his eyes. Matthew was not there and Dominic immediately ran into the hallway. He knocked on the bathroom door but the whole flat was eerily quiet.

Panic was quickly rising in his chest and he sprinted back into the living room. The duvets lay neatly folded on the sofa and it took Dominic a moment to until he saw the folded piece of paper on top of them. He unfolded it with shaking fingers.

 

_Dear Dominic,_

_I’m sorry, I really suck at farewells. And it must seem like a dick-move to leave without at least saying goodbye properly._

_There is no way I can ever return all the kindness and unquestioning trust you met me with from the very first moment on. You’ve put up with me longer than anyone who’s not related to me ever has (even those who are have never been very patient with me)._

_I would’ve been lost without your help, but I think you know that already. You saved me and were there when no one else was. For the first time in a long time I felt comfortable and safe which is pretty ironic considering the circumstances._

_I suppose this is my clumsy way of saying thank you. Thank you for everything. Thank you for taking me in, for backing me up and for putting all that undeserved trust in me. You’ve done more for me than you can imagine._

_All of this makes it really hard for me to leave like this. I am so sorry. Dom, you are an utterly amazing person and you don’t deserve to be sucked into my mess. I have already put you into too much danger and I guess this is the least I can do to keep you safe._

_I cannot tell you where I am going, it’s part of the agreement, but I think it’s for the best. It might seem pathetic but I consider you a true friend and I cannot risk your life now._

_Thank you again._

_Matthew_

 

The letter was silently falling to the ground when Dominic sank down onto the sofa, the realisation hitting him full force.

Matthew was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry once again. I hate how long it took me to finish this one. 
> 
> But loads of thanks to my lovely Stef for listening to me whining over this and for helping me out when I couldn't see straight anymore. By now she really deserves to be mentioned as some sort of shareholder. Also thanks to my dearest Lici for brainstorming with me one particular night and pointing out plotholes I didn't see before. And, last but not least, buttloads of thanks to my awesome beta Alex. I love you girls!!!

_“He was standing in front of a wall of darkness, and on the other side of it there was something unendurable, something too dreadful to be faced.”_

**Sunday, 9 th June 2013, 07:01am, London Borough of Islington**

Dominic was running. The air was fresh and clear after last night’s downpour and Dominic’s every step sounded uncomfortably loud in the still empty streets. It would take a few more hours for the first Londoners to come out of their caves. There would probably be a lot more tourists around by then. But Dominic did not care about any of that. He did not care about the first rays of sun warming his back or the water splashing around his feet and staining his jeans or the peaceful quiet surrounding him. The only thing he cared about right now was the hastily folded letter in his back pocket and the fact that agreements had been made behind his back.

And Matthew. Sweet, shy, caring Matthew. He could have been about anywhere by then. Dominic had no idea when Matthew had left but he had the gut feeling that it could not have been long after he had gone to bed.

He had already tried to hack into Assange’s chat room but to no avail. There was no way he could possibly outwit the two computer geniuses on their turf. What he could do, though, was analyse the letter. Apart from the obvious gratefulness and lack of self-esteem, the wording also revealed regret and openness towards Dominic that had not been there in their face-to-face conversations. Matthew had never talked about his family before. What concerned Dominic the most, though, was the lack of fear for himself. Matthew did not mention anything about his own future at all. Of course there was the worry for Dominic. But what about his own life? Surely he could not be that blind and reckless, could he?

Dominic was still running when The Guardian’s headquarters finally came into view. He had not bothered with the tube. There was so much tension and anger building up inside of him that the early workout had come as a nice outlet.

Slightly red-faced and sweaty he rushed into the building and past the reception. Lynda was not there. Well, it was Sunday after all. She was not who he was looking for anyway, so he stormed into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor vigorously. Most of the open-plan office was empty when he entered it but he could hear muffled voices from down the hallway. Dominic stopped in front of one of the conference rooms, the source of the voices. They did not sound too muffled now. He was not usually one for eavesdropping but Stewart’s eager voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Mark, you’re responsible for transferring most of the data to our foreign servers. We cannot have them falling into the government’s hands again. Which is very likely their goal after we’ve published the first overview. They’re going to come marching in here in order to destroy the evidence. Luckily we’re not dumb enough to let that happen. Right?”

A loud cheer erupted from inside and Dominic’s breath caught in his throat. What the hell?

“Today’s goal is to gain an overview and to gather all the important information. I am going to write the article as soon as we’re done with that. Now that our informant is on his way to safety, we are free to publish. And I want that to happen by tomorrow.”

Another round of applause went through the room and suddenly Dominic could not hold himself back anymore. He clasped the door handle furiously and burst into the room, everybody going dead silent at his appearance.

“Dominic.” Stewart’s face went pale. “What are you doing here?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” Dominic spat back in disbelief. “Not the best question to start with. I’ll suggest a few alternative ones. Why are you working on the documents Matthew gave you with the sole purpose of having them passed on to Assange? Why did I not know about this? And where the hell is Matthew?”

For a split second Stewart looked a bit guilty, but then he cleared his throat and his expression became guarded again.

“Dominic, there is a reason you weren’t filled in about this.”

“Oh, a reason? Well, that changes everything. If there’s a reason I guess I can’t complain,” Dominic retorted sarcastically.

“Cut the crap and listen!” Stewart shot back angrily. “Your objectivity is compromised by your emotional proximity to our source. We cannot have that with an endeavour as grave as this.”

“So you thought you could just as well go behind my back and risk Matthew’s safety while you’re at it?” Dominic’s glare spoke of pure contempt and Stewart actually cringed under it. _Well, so he should_ , Dominic thought with grim satisfaction.

“I’m not risking anyone’s life and we’re abiding by the agreement. Matthew is not my responsibility. This paper has already done its part in keeping him safe. The rest is up to Assange and his minions,” Stewart eventually said, defensively.

“Are you even listening to yourself? This paper has done its part? The rest is up to Assange? When have you become such a cold-hearted bastard? And what is this agreement?” Dominic did not even try to stay calm and instead kept boiling over. “I am the one Matthew confided in and now he’s going to think that I betrayed him! You did this behind his back, didn’t you?”

“This information isn’t his personal property and Assange and I decided that it needs to go public in more than one way. WikiLeaks is huge, but not huge enough to reach everyone,” Stewart argued.

Deep down Dominic knew that Stewart was right, at least about reaching the public. But this was _Matthew_ they were talking about. Matthew who had become the involuntary messenger of a revolution that yet needed to happen. Matthew who went the extra mile to do the right thing and got deceived by those he trusted. No, this was not okay. After everything he had been through, Matthew deserved to do this on his own time.

“Why didn’t you at least tell him?”

Dominic deflated. He felt lost and helpless, like he was finally catching up with the bigger picture and was swallowed up by it. Suddenly he was reminded of being haunted by a shadow. Pictures from his nightmare invaded his thoughts and he shook his head instinctively. There was nothing he could do.

Stewart mumbled something to his team and they disassembled quietly. All of a sudden the two of them were the only people left in the big conference room. With a sigh the associate editor sat down next to Dominic and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“You know where he is, don’t you?” Dominic whispered without looking up from his folded hands.

“Yes,” Stewart finally admitted and Dominic grunted in confirmation.

“And you won’t tell me, right?”

“Right.”

“Is this the agreement? You help WikiLeaks with smuggling Matthew out of the country, if I’m left out of the picture?”

“Part of it, yes.”

Stewart nodded, his head hanging low on his shoulders. An obvious attempt at feigning sympathy. Dominic was not going to take the bait, though.

“Well then, I guess this is where we part company,” Dominic said soberly and got up, shrugging Stewart’s hand off.

“Come again?” The older man looked at him in utter disbelief.

“I will not work with someone who thinks it’s okay to use a human life as leverage. Or to treat me like child, while we’re on it. I don’t need your supervision and I sure as hell do not want you to make decisions for me.” Dominic’s face was stony and purged of emotions as he went over to the door.

“Dominic, I’m sorry... I...,” Stewart stuttered, suddenly desperate.

“Sorry my arse,” Dominic mumbled under his breath and slammed the door shut behind him.

 

**Sunday, 9 th June 2013, 09:17am, London Borough of Camden**

Dominic was strolling past the still closed stalls in the middle of Camden Market. Some of the vendors were already busy with putting new wares on display and the first tourists were swarming about the place. Dominic felt nothing of the usual buzz that came with being there. Instead he just walked down the street with no particular destination in mind. He did not feel like going home since he had just quit his job. The very reason he was in this city in the first place.

He wanted to blame Matthew because he had not told him where he had gone. He wanted to blame Assange because he had agreed to Stewart’s conditions. He wanted to blame Stewart because he had been a downright arsehole. But he knew he also had to blame himself. For getting too attached to Matthew. For letting himself get involved despite the warnings. Most of all he blamed himself for letting Matthew do this on his own, though.

Without conscious decision he eventually ended up climbing Primrose Hill and was actually a little surprised to see where he had gone. His mind had been so clouded with dark thoughts that he had not paid much attention to his surroundings. With a deep sigh he let himself sink onto one of the benches and took in the admittedly stunning view of central London. He slumped against the back of the bench, closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing when suddenly the ringing of his mobile announced an incoming text message. With a frown on his face he took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen, the message there causing his frown to deepen even further. Apparently it had no sender and the content was just as cryptic as the way it had reached him.

_Are you alone? If yes, nod and stay where you are. If no, leave and come back in an hour._

Not for the first time in the past few days Dominic went through a massive what-the-fuck experience and threw his head around frantically. Was it even possible to send anonymous text messages? He was not sure. But more importantly, who was watching him? And why did they have his number?

Dominic tried to steady his breath and decided that he had nothing to lose. Well, objectively he still had a lot to lose but he chose not to think about that right then. He was a little scared, granted, but also curious. And with journalists like Dominic, curiosity always won.

With another look around he found that he was completely alone and so he nodded hesitantly. When he felt that he had done enough nodding, he clasped his thighs nervously and waited for something... anything to happen. For a few minutes nothing changed, though. Until someone put their hand on his shoulder from behind, that is. Dominic jumped with a fright and turned around to find a slightly taller, broad-shouldered man standing on the other side of the bench. His dark hair was neatly cropped and his face freshly shaven while his clothes and posture spoke of a more relaxed attitude. Dominic was confused just by his appearance.

“Sit with me,” the man said in a calm voice, walked around the bench and sat down.

Dominic stared at him for another moment before he eventually followed suit. He did not dare to speak or even look at the man. Instead he waited for him to speak first. But when he did, Dominic wished he could take it back and make a run for it.

“My name is Christopher Wolstenholme and I’m a London based GCHQ agent,” the man sighed.

Dominic froze, his whole body going numb. Shit. Shit. Shit. No.

“What... I...,” he stuttered and darted his eyes around. No way could he outrun this athlete of a man.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to interrogate or take you into custody. Which I could, strictly speaking. It’s more of a... personal investigation, though.”

Still dumbfounded, Dominic just sat and there and openly stared with his jaw hanging low. Christopher sighed again and turned his head back to the view over London.

“I am a friend of Matthew’s and I’m... I’m worried for him. I know what he did, they called me back to Cheltenham first thing when they’d found out about his flight. They put me on the case because they think that Matthew trusts me and will eventually reveal himself to me. Which he did. But not right away. You were his first contact and the last before he left.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Wait! You talked to him? And now you’re gonna sell your friend out to the government? After everything he’s been through?” Dominic jumped up in again and stared angrily at the agent.

“Wow, calm down, Dominic. There’s one thing the GCHQ got completely wrong,” Christopher said and just about managed not to roll his eyes at the journalist’s protectiveness.

“And what’s that?” Dominic asked cautiously.

“Me.”

 

**Sunday, 9 th June 2013, 10:35am, Central London**

Dominic unlocked the door to his flat and let himself in, Christopher directly behind him. They did not talk on the way there and Christopher had made sure that they always left at least ten yards between each other. Dominic had no idea why he trusted the agent, he just did. Maybe it was because he was his only connection to Matthew at the moment. Maybe not. It did not really matter anyway because now it was too late to go back.

“Would you like some tea? Or coffee?” he asked Christopher when they entered his flat.

“Tea would be nice, thanks,” Christopher replied and took a quick look around. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thanks.” Dominic nodded and went off into the kitchen with his guest still on his heels.

“So,” Christopher started and sat down at the table, “how do you know Matthew?”

“Really? That’s how you wanna start this off? I think you owe me an explanation first. After all I’ve invited you to my place without knowing anything, really. Because... well, Matthew never mentioned any friends.” Dominic gave the other man a pointed look and sounded a lot more confident than he felt.

“Good point,” Christopher sighed heavily and leant back in his chair while Dominic busied himself with the kettle. “Okay... so I’ve known him for a few years and we’ve become friends. Sort of. We met at university and both got accepted for a GCHQ scholarship. After moving to Cheltenham we didn’t see each other as much and kinda started living different lives. That might be the reason he didn’t mention any friends. It could also be that he never considered me one in the first place. I’m not sure whether you’ve noticed but he’s kinda shy and doesn’t trust easily.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dominic mumbled under his breath.

“Anyway, we _are_ friends. He just doesn’t realise that, I guess.” Christopher sighed a lot, Dominic noticed. “Well they – the GCHQ, I mean – wanted me to join the team working his case and so I did. I thought I might be able to destroy some evidence and cover up his tracks. That’s how I found out about you. He had your name written down on some scrap paper I found under his mattress. Luckily enough before someone else did. That was about a day after he left. I wanted to contact you right away but I thought he might need some head start.”

“So you want to hand him over,” Dominic concluded with a deep frown.

“No, of course not. But if I’d gone to London earlier my whole unit would’ve followed me. Didn’t you hear what I said about _destroying_ evidence?” Christopher asked, sounding almost annoyed.

“Okay, so you... you’re really just worried for him?”

“Yes. And I want the truth to finally get out.”

“Wait... I thought you’re _with_ the GCHQ.”

Dominic’s frown deepened considerably. The whole thing was just getting more confusing by the minute. This guy really had a way of not getting to the point.

“I am. That doesn’t mean I have to be okay with what they’re doing, though. See, there’s a difference between protecting your country and betraying it,” Christopher said and nodded over to the tea cups. “Are you done?”

“Oh yes, sorry,” Dominic said hurriedly and put both cups down on the table. Then he sat down on the opposite side and looked at Christopher. “So what are you actually here for? And what did you mean when you said that Matthew revealed himself to you?”

“You see, he and I developed a method of communication that is very hard to trace. He... he contacted me while he was still on the road. Just a short message. Said he was on the way to some safe place and that he was okay. He must’ve known that I would be put on him. He also knows that I’d never deceive him, though. But, because I know him too, I had to come here and find you. He can be rash and reckless at times and I don’t want him to get hurt. Matthew might be a sneaky little genius but when he’s on his own he’s practically helpless.”

That was something Dominic had already experienced himself and he nodded in understanding. Christopher took a sip from his cup and held it in front of his face for a while. He seemed weary and pensive and Dominic almost took pity on him.

“Christopher, I appreciate your input. A lot. But... you’ve got to know that I won’t tell you anything of what I know. How can I be sure that you’re telling the truth?” Dominic eventually asked, his need for a clear answer obvious in his voice.

“The thing is that I’m not here for answers. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just wanted to ask you a favour,” the taller man said almost pleadingly and Dominic paused, surprised. “I... I know this is a lot to ask but I’m really, really worried... if I could find out where he is, would you go there and... stay by his side?”

“What?” Dominic stared at Christopher with wide eyes, disbelief written all over his face.

He had let Matthew into his flat and into his life, he had risked his own credibility and freedom for the man, and had ultimately quit the job he loved so dearly. All because of Matthew. Dominic sure as hell would not stop there.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t... it was wrong to ask, I’m sorry.” Christopher completely misinterpreted Dominic’s stunned silence and got up, already on his way to the door.

“No, no, no! I’ll do it! In a heartbeat!” Dominic hurried to correct. “But how are you planning on finding that out?”

Christopher stopped in the doorway and a slight smile crept into his features.

“That’s actually quite simple. I’ll just ask him.”                  

 

**02:35pm**

Ask him. Yes. That sounded simpler than it was, though. Christopher had sent Matthew a message via their undetectable system which Dominic, quite frankly, did not understand at all. Apparently it was some sort of e-mail encryption, that much he got. But it was not like Tor because, as Christopher had explained, they did not have the luxury of being able to use other servers. There Dominic had zoned out because it was too much IT lingo for him and as long as it worked he was happy with it. What they did not know, though, was when Matthew would be able to access the internet again. So they waited.

Christopher was sitting on the sofa and watched the news while Dominic busied himself with rereading Matthew’s letter for the thousandth time. He had eventually shown it to Christopher because there was no reason not to. The man seemed trustworthy enough and he was after all his only way of reaching Matthew. Christopher’s reaction to the letter had been one of awe. He had said that he had never seen Matthew being so open with someone. Never.

With a sigh Dominic put the letter down on the dining table and walked over to the sofa. He sat down beside Christopher and leant back into the cushions. His laptop was sitting in the middle of the coffee table between them and the TV so they would not miss it if a reply arrived. Christopher suddenly started to wriggle a little and a small frown formed on his face.

“What’s this?” he asked and reached behind himself.

“Huh?” Dominic looked at him questioningly.

Christopher pulled out a little plastic card on which he had apparently sat.

“Oh,” he whispered, recognition spreading over his face.

“What is it?” Dominic asked and tried to lean over.

“It’s Matthew’s ID. He must’ve lost it.”

Dominic made a grab for it and stared at the tiny card with Matthew’s picture on it.

“Oh god, it...,” he stuttered, “it’s his birthday today...”

Christopher nodded silently and turned back to the TV with a sigh.

It was Matthew’s fucking birthday! And he was out there, god knew where. Why had he not told him? He turned 28 today and no one he knew was with him. _No one should have to spend their birthday like that_ , Dominic thought ruefully.

“He never liked birthdays,” Christopher suddenly interrupted his stream of thoughts. “You know, I had to steal his ID to find out when his birthday is. My guess is that his family never attached a lot of importance to it. Just an assumption, though, he never talked about it. It just was what it was. I learnt that one rather quickly. You do not ask Matthew for private information. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”

 

**04:09pm**

“You know what we haven’t talked about yet?” Dominic asked and put his sandwich down.

“No,” Christopher replied and looked up from his plate.

“What the GCHQ actually knows. How close are they to finding Matthew? And what would they do to him if they actually found him?” There was a note of honest concern in his voice as he spoke.

“Well... I’m glad to say that they don’t know a whole lot. What they know is that he fled to London and he was spotted a few times in the first days. It was mere luck they lost track of him again. I’m pretty sure he didn’t know when exactly he was being followed. He’s a bit paranoid and probably thought they were up his arse all the time. Then he disappeared from the face of the earth completely. I guess that’s when you took him in,” Christopher elaborated and Dominic nodded at his every word. “What he’d have to face if they caught him... I’m not sure. The thing is that those documents are very likely going to damage and weaken a lot of governments. First and foremost, the UK and the US, both countries not to be trifled with. Then there’s also the greater part of Central and South Europe... they’ll all be interested in silencing Matthew.”

“Let’s hope that Assange found a safe place to stay for him then,” Dominic mumbled under his breath and swallowed hard.

“What? Assange?” Christopher asked, suddenly alarmed.

Shit! Dominic had not meant to say that out loud. He shook his head hesitantly but it was in vain. Christopher was already on it.

“I should have known! Why didn’t I even consider that? He went straight to WikiLeaks, didn’t he? That’s what he needed The Guardian for!”

Well, he was smart. And he seemed to really know Matthew. So there was no point in lying about this. Dominic nodded in defeat.

“Actually... that’s great news!” Christopher exclaimed to Dominic’s surprise. “I mean, at least he’s in capable hands.”

It was not at all what Dominic had expected but he found himself nodding, nevertheless.

“I hope so,” he muttered under his breath and tried to focus on the news again.

 

**10:51pm**

Christopher had left about half an hour after they’d finished their late lunch. He’d given Dominic the number to his emergency mobile which was not tracked by the GCHQ. Matthew had still not answered and Dominic hoped that it only meant that he hadn’t reached his destination yet. It was very likely hard to get internet access under the circumstances he was currently facing.

With a heavy sigh Dominic rolled over under his covers and tried to find a position he could finally fall asleep in. Sleep did not come too easy, though. Made up images of Matthew getting caught and real ones of him smiling or talking or thinking kept alternately flashing before his eyes. Deep down Dominic knew what his worries and constant thinking about Matthew meant. But admitting that to himself would also mean admitting that Stewart had been right in excluding him. Was his judgement really compromised?

He rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Matthew... Matt... the little bundle of confusion, trouble and excitement... Dominic shook his head and pulled the covers up to his nose.

Yes, Matthew meant something to him. Yes, he wanted to protect him from all evil. God yes, he might have been in the middle of falling for the man. Hard. And yes, he knew he sounded like love-sick fool, even in his mind. But no, he couldn’t do anything about it.

Since sighing seemed to be the only thing he did these days, he closed his eyes and sighed quietly, “Happy Birthday, Matt. Please be safe.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's finally back! On LJ this is two-parts chapter, so you might be able to see where I split it. I hope you don't mind. And I'm incredibly sorry for my prolonged absence in the Minority department, but there were BA thesis issues I had to deal with, other fics that needed to be written, concerts that wanted me to come around, and conventions I just couldn't miss. So... I hope you'll accept my apology. Hopefully I'll be able to write more from now on. Thanks to my amazing beta Alex again! I love you, girl!

_“Remember the time I couldn’t speak? Everybody heard.“_

[The Cooper Temple Clause - Amber]

 

**Monday, 10 th June 2013, 07:16am, Partyzanski District of Minsk**

The house lay still in the soft light of dawn. It was not remarkable by any means, just the same as the other houses on the quiet street. Old redbrick walls, black roofs, covered windows and almost rotten looking doors. Apparently the perfect hiding place.

Matthew climbed up the flight of stairs, exhaustion almost threatening to overtake his consciousness. He had been dropped off a few streets away by his last driver so as not to make an unnecessary connection between the car and the house. With the hood of his grey sweater pulled deep into his face and his bag slung tightly over his shoulder, he pushed the key into the lock of number 21 and let himself in. He cringed a little as the door creaked in its hinges but let out a relieved sigh when he pushed it shut again. The inside was just as nondescript as the outside, Matthew noted. They had told him that his flat was the ground floor one because then he would not have to pass the other doors, was more likely not to meet any neighbours, and in an emergency he would be able to leave the easiest. He could live with that.

As he climbed up five more steps, he thought about the journey that was now behind him. It had been nothing short of nerve-racking. At first they had brought him to some guy whose job it had been to make him unrecognisable. He had cut his hair and then dyed it to a slightly dirty looking, dark shade of blonde. A pair of brown contact lenses and thinly rimmed glasses had completed his new ‘look’. Then he had been given new, better fitting clothes and – something Matthew still couldn’t quite deal with – a new identity. He was now Daniel Morrison, a clerk from Birmingham. When he had first looked into a mirror after his transformation, he had not recognised himself. It was, quite frankly, still creeping him out to no end.

“Daniel,” he murmured to himself and shook his head in slight disapproval.

His thoughts circled back to London and he wondered what Dominic would say to his new alias. Would he think it believable? Matthew was sure that the people who had organised his escape were capable and had done stuff like this plenty of times before. They seemed like professionals. But would Dom believe it? He knew Matthew. Somehow. Those people did not.

He put the key into the lock of his new flat but before he could turn it, the door got opened from within. He froze momentarily until he remembered that someone _was supposed_ to be waiting for him. A blonde shock of hair and a pair of sharp eyes greeted him and for a moment he was struck by the silly thought of Dominic being the one to settle him in here.

Of course it was not Dominic though, he realised quickly. The face that belonged to the man in the doorway was slightly wrinkled, especially around the eyes. His hair was shorter and he looked a bit stockier than the journalist.

“You are Daniel, I take it?”

“Well, sort of.”

“Hi, I’m Morgan.”

The man’s eyes crinkled a little as he held out his hand in greeting. Matthew took it hesitantly. Morgan’s grip on his hand was firm, determined and short. He was obviously a man of experience who knew exactly what he was dealing with. Matthew instantly took a liking to him.

“Come in, we don’t want to attract any neighbours.”

With that he gestured Matthew into the flat. There was a little hallway with three doors and fading wallpapers that were peeling off the walls in the corners. It was kind of what Matt had expected; a low-key hiding place no one would even look at twice.

Morgan closed the door behind them and locked it with his own key. Then he was directly behind Matthew again and started his little tour.

“Kitchen, bathroom, bedroom.” He pointed at each room and Matthew chuckled despite himself.

“Consider me impressed.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t expect a penthouse suite. We’re more the modest type of people, y’know?”

“No, this is perfect.” Matthew shook his head and darted a look into the bedroom. “Really, all I’ll need. And ‘modest type of people’? Whom does that include?”

“All of us humble WikiLeaks associates, obviously.” Morgan raised an amused eyebrow at Matthew.

He smiled and cocked his head in return. “So… Morgan… what’s the plan now? Because, quite frankly, I have no idea.”

“Well then, make yourself at home. I’m gonna put on the kettle and then we’ll talk.”

Matthew watched Morgan vanish into the tiny kitchen before slumping down into the ancient looking sofa in the middle of the more spacious bedroom. Apparently it was supposed to be used as a living room, too. There was an old TV opposite the sofa, a bed in the far corner and a table with a few chairs next to the door. The two windows were covered with thick, dirty-yellowish curtains that bathed the room in a warm, orange glow.

The exhausted man let his head fall against the back of the sofa, propped his feet up on the low coffee table and closed his eyes. He had not slept since his last morning in Dominic’s flat. That had been more than 48 hours ago. More than 48 hours, including a 32 hour drive from London to Minsk. Crossing borders as if they were nothing. Driving like all hell had broken loose but trying to stay inconspicuous. Feeling hunted by a superior predator that could not wait to get its claws into him. But no, he was no helpless prey. Not anymore.

“Oh, if you wanna take a nap I can still brief you later.”

Matthew cracked one eye open, already close to falling asleep. Morgan smiled at him sympathetically as he put the tea tray down, slightly nudging Matthew’s feet aside with it.

“No,” Matthew sighed and sat up a bit straighter. “I won’t be able to sleep properly anyway. Too many questions and uncertainties.”

The blonde nodded his understanding and poured them both a cup of tea. Then he sat back in his chair and fixed Matthew with a pensive look.

“Okay, the thing is we cannot do a lot here. This arrangement is mostly about keeping you out of harm’s way. Soon enough they’ll know about your association with WikiLeaks. That’s why we need Charlotte over here as soon as possible. She’s Julian’s legal adviser and also an investigative journalist. She knows a lot and is supposed to support you here.”

“But…” Matthew furrowed his brows. “But I’m still anonymous, right? It’s not like I’m actually going to court or anything.”

“Yes and of course not. But we cannot be sure about how long you’ll be able to actually stay anonymous. On the one hand the government has its reasons to keep quiet about your identity. On the other hand… there is no such thing as all-round security. Better safe than sorry, I’d say.”

Morgan stirred the spoon through his tea while Matthew sipped his and waited for the other man to continue.

“So what we’re going to do now is set you up here. You’ll need a secure internet connection here. I’ll see to that. I’ve already been grocery shopping so that shouldn’t be a problem either. There’s a washing machine in the bathroom and I’ve managed to get my hands on some more clothes for you.”

“Erm… and am I going to stay here alone? I mean, until this woman, Charlotte is here?”

Matthew looked doubtful and utterly beat and Morgan felt bad for having to say his next words.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot stay here. I am going to check up on you off and on. But it’d raise suspicion if I stayed here for too long because I’ve got another flat closer to the the city centre. As far as the administration is concerned this flat is deserted. But we’ve got a deal with the landlord. Just don’t attract too much attention to the fact that you’re here.”

Matthew sighed deeply and put his cup back down on the table.

“But I’ll have internet access?”

Morgan nodded.

“Via the WikiLeaks servers in Sweden, I take it?”

Morgan nodded again.

“Then I’ll be fine.” He crossed his arms emphatically behind his head and leant back. If Morgan had known Matthew a bit better, all his alarm bells would have been drowning out his thoughts right then. This was Matthew closing his shell again. _Would Dominic have seen the warning signs? Would he have known how to pry him open again?_

“Good. Charlotte should be able to come over sometime in the next few days. She’s still in London, trying to mediate between Julian and The Guardian.”

At that Matthew pricked his ears.

“What does The Guardian have to do with anything? I thought they’d be left out of it now that I’m here and WikiLeaks has the files. Well, some of them.”

“I don’t know much to be quite honest.” Morgan scratched his head. “Just that Charlotte cannot come over until that particular dispute is settled. But I imagine there’s some discussion going on about the publishing.”

“Publishing? But I thought…” Matthew cut himself short and turned on the TV instead.

Morgan shot him a confused look. “It’s just an assumption.”

“Yeah…” Matthew had stopped listening and instead flicked through the channels, trying to find some news channel. And then he stopped dead.

_“A source inside the well-known, London based newspaper The Guardian let it slip that there will be another publication of new material in cooperation with the controversial internet platform WikiLeaks. This has not been officially confirmed as yet, although the insider described it as a leak challenging that of 2010. If this is true we are probably facing another major upheaval. While WikiLeaks’ Julian Assange is still confined to the Ecuadorian Embassy…”_

Matthew turned down the volume and looked at Morgan, incredulity written all over his face.

“This was not supposed to happen,” he whispered and let his eyes slip back to the TV. They were currently showing pictures of Assange and probably retelling how he’d ended up in his self-exposed confinement. Matthew could not care less.

“I didn’t even… I… They have no right…”

“Daniel… I mean, Matthew. Look, this was bound to happen. And it doesn’t really make a difference, does it? Isn’t this what you wanted? For the world to know?” Morgan’s voice sounded careful and painfully soft.

“I’m not ready for this. Dominic, he… he was just supposed to… but he didn’t… he… how could he betray me like this? HE FUCKING KNEW I WASN’T READY!” Matthew jumped up and knocked the kettle over in his agitated movements. “I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE THAT I TRUSTED THAT PRICK! ALL OF THEM!”

“Matthew, calm down.” Morgan had gotten up as well, all calm and composed, and was now piercing the raging man with a stern look. “No one betrayed you. These documents do not belong to you. By handing them over to Julian, you expressed your wish to make them public. The Guardian is an institution in that respect. We’ve worked with Stewart Payne before. I admit, it was not the smoothest cooperation, but in the end the world got to know and that’s all that counts.”

Fate chose that exact moment and made Morgan’s mobile ring into the silence that had followed his little speech. He grabbed it from the table and answered the call immediately, not without shooting Matthew another look, though.

“Julian? … Yeah, I’m in the middle of setting him up here. … No, no, s’alright.”

The brunette looked at the man on the other side of the table as if he had grown a second head. Granted, this was not one of Matthew’s more rational moments. He stomped over to where Morgan had turned his back on him and, without warning, snatched the mobile out of his hand.

“Oi!” Morgan protested, but too late. Matthew was already cursing into the mouthpiece.

“Who gave you the right? I certainly didn’t!”

“Matthew?”

“No, it's Daniel!” Matthew spat back at the Australian on the other end of the line.

“I see.”

“What the hell is going on? When did you decide to sell me out to The Guardian? Isn’t there something about protection of the source? Anonymity for the whistleblower? Isn’t that what you’ve got written on your flags?”

“Who said anything about selling you out or revealing your identity?”

“Oh, stop fucking with me!”

“Shut up, Matthew! Just. Shut up! Believe me, I’m not happy with the situation, either. Granted, we needed The Guardian. Still do. But it wasn’t my idea to announce our plans before you were even out of the fire line. We need their resources and, yes, I wanted to cooperate with them again. But under _my_ conditions. Unfortunately we needed Payne’s help to get you out of the country and that’s where _his_ conditions came in. Free reign over the work on the files and the publishing. That’s the price. No one is going to reveal your identity, not yet. The government is going to avoid that for as long as possible because they can’t afford to give these revelations a face. People relate to faces and get attached far more easily. If it’s only documents and information, the government has a lot less problems.”

Matthew’s face was blank as he listened to Assange’s explanation. Instead of starting on the dangers of getting caught so far away from home, he whispered almost inaudibly, “Did Dominic know?”

“About The Guardian’s new publishing plans? To be honest, I have no idea. The only person I talked to was Payne. It’s possible this Howard guy knew something. Maybe he was even involved in the planning process. But it could just as well be that he was as clueless as you were.”

Matthew could almost hear the shrug in Assange’s words. He sounded honest enough. Without another word he handed the mobile back to Morgan, then walked over to the bed and slumped down on it. His head was beginning to throb and a thousand thoughts kept chasing each other without any foreseeable end to them. It was surprisingly easy to drown out Morgan’s hushed answers to whatever questions Assange might have been throwing his way as he curled in on himself and pulled his hood over his eyes.

 

 ****Monday, 10th** ** ****June 2013, 06:24am GMT, Central London** **

Dominic was sitting at the dining table, his laptop and a hot cup of coffee in front of him with the television constantly droning in the background. He had not slept last night and instead had devoted his time to following the news as they went. His mobile was lying on the table as well, as he was waiting for a message from Christopher. Any message.

There had not been anything about Matthew yet, so he guessed that was a good thing. At least it meant they still had not caught him. Because ever since it had been made public that The Guardian was going to publish something new alongside WikiLeaks, there had been speculations. Speculations about where the information would be coming from, who the leaker was, how Assange was involved, why the government had not reacted yet and why, after their not so smooth cooperation in 2010, The Guardian and WikiLeaks had decided to work together again.

With his shoulders slightly slumped and his neck aching from the crouch he had been sitting in for at least the last two hours, Dominic typed away on his keyboard while occasionally sipping from his cup. There were countless message boards and chats in which the current issue was wildly discussed. Self-declared journalists, eager activists and semi-professional experts were trying to find out who was behind it all. Dominic noticed with a shock that they were not exactly on the wrong path with their speculations about an unknown Guardian journalist to be involved or the whistleblower being from England. Of course they were just that, speculations. No one could  _ _really__  know, that much was for sure. People liked to make assumptions, that was all.

Sighing deeply and digging his fingertips into the aching muscles of his neck, Dominic got up and carried his empty cup to the kitchen. His legs felt wobbly and started to tingle as the blood was allowed to flow freely again. With a slight headshake he tried to get his eyes to focus again. It had been ages since his last all-nighter and now he remembered why. His body knew exactly what it needed. Right in that moment it was sleep, beyond anything else. The problem, though, was that his mind refused him this relief. And while he was persistently  _ _not__  thinking about Matthew’s situation, his brain ran rings round his health and sanity.

Just when he switched the coffee machine on again, his phone started to ring. Dominic felt like he could hear the urgency behind the call he had not even picked up yet. But that could just as well have been his overactive imagination. Because by now everything seemed to be important and urgent and especially about Matthew. That was exactly the train of thought his brain had chosen to resign to. It took in all the information that was thrown at him and graded it according to its relevance to Matthew and the storm he had already unleashed. That was why even his persistence in  _ _not__  thinking about Matthew was an unnecessarily exhausting attempt, already doomed to fail.

He ran. Grabbed his mobile. Picked up. Chris.

“Dominic?”

“Yes. Any news from Matt?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

Dominic sighed disappointedly.

“But there’s something else I need to tell you. My unit has planned to raid The Guardian HQ tomorrow morning. You need to be there. They’re not only going to look for the documents - which need to be saved! They know that Matt has a confidant. If you’re not there, they’ll notice.”

“Wait, wait, wait! They’re going to raid The Guardian? Holy shit… What do you want me to do?”

“You need to inform your boss. The documents, they need to be taken care of. The rest of the staff can’t know about it, that would raise suspicions. And you _ _need__ to be there. Please, if you want Matt and your efforts to mean anything at all, do this.”

“No, no… no problem, I mean. I’ll do it.”

“But you’ve got to be careful. They’re already monitoring the building. It’d be best of you’d go there now. Make it look like you didn’t quit. If they find out about your involvement, they’re going to grill you.”

“Okay, understood. Can I call Stewart? Or are they monitoring telephone connections as well?”

“Not as far as I know. But better make it short. Sorry, I’ve got to go. Good luck, Dominic.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Christopher. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. And now _ _go__!”

Christopher hung up and Dominic looked at his mobile, still a little dumbstruck. Shit, he did not like what this was turning into. Not at all. But he had been very aware of the possibility. It took a moment for Dominic to get his fingers to work and scroll through his phonebook to call Stewart. But when he pressed the call button, his whole body came out of its initial state of shock and he moved around the flat in quick, efficient motions.

“Oh Dominic, fancy that.”

“Shut up and listen to me. I cannot tell you why but I’m coming in today. There’s something really important going on and you need to know about it.”

Dominic packed his bag and sat down on his bed to put his shoes on.

“Come again? Dominic, what the hell is going on?”

“As I’ve already established, I cannot tell you. Just have some coffee ready. See you.”

With that he hung up and let his phone slip into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he slung the strap of his back over his shoulder, made a grab for his keys and left the flat in quite a hurry.

 

****Tuesday, 11th June 2013, 07:58am GMT, London Borough of Islington** **

“Okay, all the files are secured on foreign servers.”

“Yes, and as we’ve agreed there are still copies on some of the team’s computers. So as not to raise suspicions.”

Stewart folded his hands around his coffee mug and looked at Dominic. His eyes were weary and he looked older than usual, Dominic noticed. But that was not his problem right now. Or ever. Because that man across the table had betrayed him. He was not doing this for Stewart. He was doing it for Matthew and the public. People needed to know and that was what counted for him.

Dominic leant back in his chair, nursing his own cup of black, hot and very bitter coffee. He did not really care that Stewart had not offered him sugar although he always drank his coffee with sugar. He did not care that the liquid burnt his throat as he gulped it down. What he did care about was the outcome of the GCHQ’s raid today. Christopher could not tell him when they would arrive and so Stewart and Dominic sat in tense silence.

Yes, Stewart had asked him how he was and where he had gotten the information from, who his source was. But true to his pledge Dominic kept silent and had not outed his informant. Well, maybe he had told his former associate editor that he was not going to betray people who trusted him and that he could shove his questions and fake concern up his deceitful arse. Maybe.

“Stew?”

Dominic and Stewart both turned around as someone had entered the room without knocking. Edgar was standing in the doorway and he looked a little outraged.

“What is it, Ed?”

“There are some very official looking men in suits asking for Alan and you. They are… very determined about talking to you two and it looks like they’ve brought some heavy ‘tools’.” Edgar made air quotes around the word as it was very clearly a euphemism.

Stewart sighed. Alan Rusbridger was The Guardian’s chief editor and basically everybody’s boss around there. He was also a good guy and the only other person Stewart had told about the planned raid because there had been no way he would not have told him. Dominic had understood.

Eventually they got up and Edgar and Dominic followed Stewart out of his office. Most of the editorial staff had gathered in the open-plan office to see what was about to happen. Eight neatly dressed men were standing in the middle of the room and Alan was already there. He was currently talking to the man in the very front who turned out to be Christopher. That man was a brilliant actor, Dominic thought as he came within earshot.

“You’ve had your fun. Now we want the stuff back,” he said almost smugly and Alan cringed a little as Stewart walked up to them.

“Really, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alan replied and Stewart added, “We do not have any of your stuff. No idea what you want.”

“Don’t play dumb with us. Rusbridger, Payne, the basement. Now.”

“Shit,” Edgar mumbled next to Dominic. He was one of the team Stewart had put together to work on Matthew’s documents, so he knew what was apparently at stake.

“Edgar, you got your phone on you?” Dominic whispered, urged by a sudden idea.

“Yeah,” his former colleague said and looked at him.

“Film this. We need material to prove what’s going on here.”

Realisation hit Edgar and he nodded eagerly. Then he took his phone out, switched the camera on and hid it under the jeans jacket he was carrying around on his arm. Oh, this would make for some very interesting reactions from the public. The slightest tilt of the head and the quickest of glances showed Dominic that Christopher had picked up on their little plan and he seemed to approve. Wow, he was surely one of the most observant men Dominic had ever met.

“You two!” Christopher pointed at Dominic and Edgar. “Would you mind helping us out a little? We’ve got some heavy stuff to carry.”

One of the other agents gave Christopher a strange look but was clearly in no position to question his decisions. And again Dominic was impressed by his new confidant. Dominic nudged Edgar with his elbow and they both followed Christopher’s instructions. Reluctantly of course and only after a hesitant nod from Alan. They still had to keep appearances after all. And because Edgar was genuinely unaware and Alan and Stewart only knew half of the truth, Dominic had to take the initiative. He groaned in annoyance and indignation as he was ordered to carry some laptops and external hard drives down into the basement with several pairs of GCHQ agent eyes boring into the back of his neck.

They could still hear the rest of the staff cursing and working themselves up over this breach of everything The Guardian stood for. Freedom of speech and the journalists’ integrity.

If only they knew how much this raid would push the number of readers and the reception of what they were about to publish. Dominic could not resist a smirk at that thought.

 

  
 

“ _The pin didn’t drop, it came and crashed down.”_

[The Cooper Temple Clause - Amber]

 

**Tuesday, 11th June 2013, 08:12pm GMT+3, Partyzanski District of Minsk**

Matthew was sprawled across the sofa, his socked feet resting on the small coffee table and his eyes fixed on the screen of the old TV. Morgan had provided him with a new laptop so he would not have to use his own as the GCHQ was probably having taps on it. He had not dared to check for new messages yet, although his host of sorts had assured him that it was safe. Matthew did not trust in the GCHQ’s inability to track his connections. His new laptop was perched on his legs and he kept reloading a few of his opened tabs. Most of his focus was on the The Guardian’s homepage, but nothing new had come up as far as he could tell. The only thing he had found out so far was that the inside source’s leak at the newspaper had triggered worldwide discussions and speculations. He was not sure whether he was ready to face the consequences of his actions yet, so he was beyond happy that the paper still had not announced anything official. That could, of course, change any minute and he was half expecting Morgan to call him on his new prepaid phone to let him know that they would have to move him again.

With a frustrated groan, Matthew threw his head back against the sofa. It was unbearable not to know what was going on. It almost seemed like everyone knew as much as he did, and wasn’t that a sobering thought. He hated to depend on the media for new information and found it rather paradoxical as he was in contact with WikiLeaks, the ultimate source. But no, he could not count on Assange and his minions to keep him up to date. They seemed to be satisfied with Matthew being safe. For now. To them it did not matter that he was completely on edge, and that thought alone drove him up the wall more than anything else did.

Even more than the suspicion that Dominic might have betrayed him. Because... maybe he had not, after all. There was still the possibility that the journalist had been left out of the picture, just like him. It did not really matter, though. He would probably never meet his kind and warm-hearted host again. Maybe, he thought, it would be even better if Dominic had gone behind his back. It sure would make it easier for Matthew to finally stop thinking about him. Not that he thought of him __that__ much.

It was that moment that a breaking news announcement on the TV caught his attention. At almost the same time, a new headline flashed up on The Guardian’s homepage. He did not know on what to focus first. In the end, the serious tone of the newsreader convinced him to leave the homepage for later.

“ _ _This morning, The London-based newspaper The Guardian has been subjected to a raid by GCHQ, the British Intelligence agency. While the agency ignored any inquiries about the reason for their sudden appearance at the paper’s HQ, The Guardian published an official statement on their website and, along with it, a video. Alan Rusbridger, the newspaper’s chief editor and fierce supporter of the independent press, finally announced that, yes, the reason for the raid stands in close connection with the rumours about new leaks and a further cooperation with Julian Assange and his not-for-profit media organisation WikiLeaks. Whether those rumours are true, he did neither confirm nor deny. We are now going to broadcast the video one of The Guardian’s employees filmed during the raid this morning.”__

Matthew’s eyes were fixed on the screen by then and he was agape with dread. No, no, no, what had he done? Had they destroyed the documents? Would The Guardian wimp out now that they were facing the freaking GCHQ? And... was Dominic okay? Oh God, this was all his fault.

The picture changed to a shaky hand camera recording, probably taken with a mobile phone. And most definitely in secret. The upper side of the picture was framed by black fabric and at first all he could see was the back of a broad-shouldered man, clad in an expensive suit. They were climbing down some stairs and he could hear muffled but almost indiscernible voices. Then the scene changed. They had arrived in some sort of basement. There were endless rows of shelves on the right and an impressive set of server towers on the left. In the middle of the longish basement, there were also tables full of laptops, hard drives, and other computer equipment. The Guardian’s server room, no doubt.

“Rusbridger, you can either hand over the computers in question and let us know where to find the rest of the files or face the consequences. Your choice,” a frighteningly familiar voice announced almost challengingly.

The camera panned and suddenly there he was. Christopher Tony Wolstenholme. Shit. By now Matthew was sitting on the very edge of the sofa, clawing his fingers into the scratchy fabric.

“We’ve got nothing to hide,” Rusbridger replied, unimpressed.

“You,” Christopher turned to the right and a smug grin appeared on his lips, “get over here and tell me which laptops we should spare.”

There was something else in Christopher’s eyes, something he could not quite decipher. Matthew could not concentrate on that for too long, though, as his heart skipped a beat when a lean, blond figure walked into the picture, shoulders set and completely tense. Dominic. Dominic had been there. Fuck.

“Take them all if you have to,” the journalist spat in defiance. “It’s exactly as Alan said, we have nothing to hide. But we’ll sure as hell sue you for destroying our property.”

“Well, then. Go ahead,” Christopher smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh Chris,” Matthew sighed and covered his face with his hands for a moment, releasing a breath he had not been aware of holding. “What are you doing?” He thought about the short message he had sent his... his friend. And now this? No, it could not be true. He had trusted that man with his life. Still did. It had to be some kind of ruse, it just __had__ to.

“Daniel? Daniel! Oh fuck it,” someone suddenly cursed from outside the door and Matthew’s head spun around, terror immediately spreading through his body. “Matthew!”

It did not take longer than a few seconds until a very dishevelled Morgan was standing in the doorway. Obviously. There was no one else around who would call him Daniel. Scratch that, there was no one else around, full stop.

“Matt, are you watching the news?” he asked, abandoning all aliases and formalities.

“’f course,” he replied, still a little baffled by the man’s sudden appearance.

“Julian just called me about it. He asked me to clarify that for you before you can come up with anything stupid,” the blond explained and slumped down on the sofa next to him.

Matthew stared at him. “Stupid? And what is there to clarify?”

“No one really knows how, but The Guardian knew about that raid beforehand.”

“You mean... what?”

“Stewart contacted Julian about it, but didn’t give him any details. The documents have been transferred to foreign servers. The agents couldn’t find anything compromising at the HQ. They’re all okay. That one blond guy in the video, he is your Dominic, right? The one you were raging about yesterday?”

“ He’s most definitely not __my__ Dominic,” Matthew huffed, crossed his arms over his chest and leant back into the cushions.

“That’s all you’ve gotta say about this?” Morgan looked at him in mild surprise.

“It’s all a ruse, anyway,” Matthew proclaimed, not shifting his eyes away from the screen.

“What do you mean?”

“That one agent, I know him. The one who bossed the others around. We went to university together and both got accepted for a scholarship at the GCHQ. We’re...” He hesitated for a second. “We’re friends.”

“You trust him?” Morgan simply asked.

“ I do.” Matthew merely nodded, still pointedly __not__ looking at the other man.

“Good. Because it seems that he’s working your case.”

Yes, Matthew had expected that much. They remained silent for a while. The news had switched back to the reporter in the meantime, and after the promise to keep people up to date on the matter, a documentary about red ants came on. Nothing Matthew particularly cared about. Although he felt like an ant might have been better equipped to carry the weight he was currently feeling on his shoulders.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? He avoided to face the bigger picture since all of this had started, instead preferring to only think about smaller bits and pieces of this precarious situation. Now the weight was threatening to crush him. He had gotten Dominic and Christopher involved, The Guardian was now under close and probably constant scrutiny, and he was in freaking Belarus.

“Matt? Stop! You’ll go bald it if you keep that up.” A warm hand closed around his wrist and gently pulled his hand away from his scalp.

Oh. He had indeed buried his fingers in his hair and unconsciously pulled at the soft strands. His knees were pulled up to his chin and his chest was heaving with frantic breaths. Shit, he had done it again, shut out reality and allowed panic to take reign.

“You okay, mate? You’re shaking,” Morgan asked, voice a lot softer than usual.

“Yeah, sorry,” Matthew mumbled and pulled his wrist out of the other man’s hand. “Just panicked a little, nothing to worry about.”

“Very convincing.” Morgan raised his eyebrows as he got up from the sofa again. “I’m going to make some tea. Have you eaten anything today? You sure don’t look like it.”

Without waiting for an answer, the blond man made his way to the tiny kitchen, leaving Matthew to his thoughts again. This time he was a bit more careful with how far he would let them stray, though.

 

**Wednesday, 12th, June 2013, 05:01am GMT, Central London**

Dom woke up with a groan. He had actually managed to fall asleep last night, but the human body could only take so much time without rest, so it hadn’t really come as a surprise. But now his inner clock was striking again and while his body demanded more sleep, his mind was already in the middle of sobering from the nightmares he’d had again.

With another groan he rolled over and pushed his legs over the edge of the bed. Yes, they’d beaten the GCHQ. For now. Those weren’t laurels they should rest on, though. They still had a long way to go. Especially after the release of the first article of the leaks had been postponed due to the raid at The Guardian. Stewart was probably still editing it, trying to get the latest happenings into it, as well.

He rubbed his knuckles vigorously over his eyes and sighed deeply when his feet touched the still cold floor boards. It was weird to live as unsteadily as he did since Matthew had first stepped into his life. Now he had no job, let alone an income, and also no idea what would happen next. Chris wanted him to go wherever the fuck their friend was right now and he would do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. But they still had no clue as to where they had brought him. All they could do was wait for a reply.

The journalist stretched his limbs and grimaced at the popping and cracking of his joints. He must have been sleeping in the most uncomfortable position if the pain in his neck was anything to go by. In addition to this cacophony of unpleasant sounds, his stomach started rumbling almost aggressively. Dominic had to admit that he had been a bit neglectful of his body over the past few days. Food and sleep had simply not been his top priorities. Now this carelessness was taking its toll on him. He felt older than ever.

 _ _Shower__ and __breakfast__ were the only thoughts he had in that moment and he acted on them immediately. After the first was crossed from his list, he let some air into the living room while the kettle was already boiling and his bread was in the toaster. Then he proceeded to make himself a small bowl of porridge. Not exactly his favourite food, but great to get his system going. When he moved around the kitchen he was still enjoying the refreshing effect of his shower. He already felt more awake and his body didn’t hurt as much as before.

It was half past six when he finally sat down at his dining table, switched on the laptop, and started to devour his breakfast. By then his head had cleared enough to be able to comprehend complex thoughts again, an ability that came in quite handy when he noticed the new text message on his mobile. It was from Christopher.

__Am put onto you because they are suspecting you of being involved. Would be better if you kept showing up at The Guardian. No news from Matt yet. Will keep you posted. -C_ _

Oh great, now they were observing him, too? Dominic was eternally grateful for having an inside man like Chris. He knew that there was no way he could do all this without the knowledge he had gained from the guy. The agent was an invaluable asset to him, probably even more than that. Maybe he would turn out to be a friend. He had already won Dominic’s trust, after all.

After finishing his toast and tea, he got up again and went to his bedroom to get ready for a pretend day at work. Stewart would not be too surprised if he showed up there again. He would probably even be happy about it. Happy. Dominic did not feel happy at all. His grudge against the man he had once trusted with his life was eating away at him and he still did not feel comfortable with him around. __Could be worse, though__ , he thought to himself with a sigh as images of a lost Matthew flashed through his head again and he started to get dressed for the day.

 

**Wednesday, 12th, June 2013, 07:38am GMT, London Borough of Islington**

“Why is Stewart’s door shut? His door is never shut.”

Dominic looked at Erica, one of his former co-workers, as he stood in front of the associate editor’s office. People hurried past them and the whole department seemed to be in a tumult.

“He’s in a meeting,” she answered with knitted eyebrows. “And what are you doing here? Don’t take this the wrong way, I’d love to have you back at the office, but didn’t you quit?”

“Yeah… well, I’m back for the time being. Sort of.” Dominic’s gaze alternated between the woman in front of him, the closed door that practically screamed ‘stay out’, and the journalists who shouted questions and answers across the open-plan office like their lives depended on it. “What’s going on here?”

Erica’s jaw dropped at that and she stared at him in honest disbelief. “Didn’t you hear? We published the article about the leaks today. Practically everyone’s talking about it. Seriously, two days off work and you’ve already stopped following the news?”

With that she gave him a good-natured slap to the shoulder and went off again with a spring to her steps. Hell, she was in a far too good mood for his liking. But that was exactly what happened with journalists if their paper was the first to publish such controversial high-quality news. They got completely psyched. Of course, the atmosphere was tense, but what it ultimately came down to was the anticipation of what would happen next. Dominic used to love that. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Determination took hold of him again as he finally turned away from the tumult that had once been his life of choice, and instead faced the closed door. Without hesitation he pushed the handle down and entered Stewart’s office.

“Dominic,” the older man spluttered in surprise. “I’m in a meeting, couldn’t you at least have knocked?”

The woman in front of the desk turned her head and scrutinised the newcomer curiously. Dominic did not pay her much attention, though. His eyes were trained on his ex-boss.

“Sorry, but no.” He knew his defiance was almost childish, but he just could not help it. “There’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s urgent.”

“Don’t you see that I’m busy right now?” Stewart’s voice was tinged with suppressed anger at the indignation he was currently suffering from due to Dominic’s obvious problem with his authority. “I’m sorry, Miss Robinson.”

“No, no, it’s not a problem.” The woman was still looking at Dom and a small smile curled her lips. “Are you Mr Howard?”

“Indeed I am,” Dominic replied and when he finally returned her gaze, he recognised her with a start. “You’re Charlotte Robinson.”

“Correct,” she smiled on. “It’s great that you came by! Now I won’t have to hunt you down.”

“Hunt me down?” Dominic’s forehead creased in confusion.

Charlotte Robinson was WikiLeaks’ legal adviser and had become one of the organisation’s most recognisable faces. But what was she on about? What could she possibly want from him?

“Yes.” She turned around to face Stewart again. “I am incredibly sorry, Mr Payne, but would you mind giving me a minute alone with your employee? Julian asked me to contact him and there are a few issues I need to discuss with him.”

Stewart gaped at that. This was obviously one of the very last things he had expected to happen this morning. Dominic had to suppress a smug smirk, although he still had no idea what was actually going on.

“We can finish our conversation afterwards, but we have already gone through the most important points anyhow.” Her smile did not waver for a second.

Oh, she was good. Dominic completely understood why Assange kept her around. A real professional, and a charming one at that.

“Well…” Stewart cleared his throat. “Alan asked me to meet him at his office anyway. I’ll be back in a few.”

“No need to hurry,” she assured him, but the associate editor eyed them wearily as he got up from behind his desk and eventually left the office with a quiet huff.

“Care to sit with me?” Charlotte asked Dominic, who was still staring at the closing door in sheer amazement.

“Yeah…” he replied, still baffled and turned his attention back to the ginger-haired woman at the desk. He sat down and raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. “So… what is this about? You hunting me down and throwing Stewart out of his own office? Seems kind of… extreme to me.”

“Well,” she sighed and her smile finally faltered a bit. “I’m here on Julian’s behalf. He asked me to inquire about the paper’s publishing plans as Mr Payne didn’t deem it necessary to keep us up to date. But he also asked me to seek you out. You are a friend of Mr Bellamy, yes?”

Dominic was taken aback by the sudden change of topic. Not for a second had he considered the possibility that this could be about Matthew. His heart rate picked up a bit. Maybe she knew something! He nodded, at first hesitantly and then with more fervor.

“Great.” Her smile was immediately back in place. “There is no one else we know whom we can contact about him. I am assigned to join him at his hiding place as an adviser and supporter. So it would be good if I knew a bit about him and his circumstances beforehand.”

Dominic’s jaw practically dropped at her words. “What? You mean… you mean you know where he is?”

“Yes, I do. Julian told me that you are not aware of his current whereabouts and he specifically asked me not to tell you, but…” She eyed him understandingly as his emotions flickered openly across his face, free for her to see and gauge. Then she sighed deeply. “You see, I have a soft spot for people like Mr Bellamy and you. You’re fighting for a good cause and do not think about the consequences it might have for you. I know what many people think about WikiLeaks and Julian, but I like to think that we are of the same batch. We are all fighting for the truth, in a way.” She actually cracked a grin at Dominic’s dumbstruck expression. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know what you’ve done for Mr Bellamy. It’s my job to know such things, don’t think anything of it.”

“I… you…” he stuttered and waited for the other shoe to drop.

She nodded and did a very bad job at hiding her smirk. This woman knew her impact on other people and obviously enjoyed it. But not in an insufferable bitch kind of way. She exuded warmth, humour, and intelligence in an unmistakable manner. Dominic felt completely comfortable around her, although they had only just met. __What a curious, remarkable woman__ , he thought and finally returned her smile. For some reason it did not bother him that she seemed to know far too much about his short time with Matthew. But he had to focus! This was most likely his only chance to reach him.

“So, Mr Howard, what can you tell me about Mr Bellamy?” she asked softly.

“Oh, you know… I didn’t get to spend that much time with him. But I think the most important thing about him is that he doesn’t trust easily. He’s very complicated in that way.”

“But he trusted __you__.”

Was she trying to make it easy for him on purpose?

“Yes, well… that’s probably because I was there when he needed someone. But it wasn’t like he dropped his guard completely. I do like to think that he trusted me, though, yes.”

Dominic leant back in his chair and tried to read Charlotte’s expression. She was a lawyer, though, and her professional smile did not give away too much he could work with.

“Do you think I can gain his trust?”

“I’m… I don’t know. Considering how his situation has gotten even more precarious now, I don't think it’s going to be an easy task. Maybe…”

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking,” she grinned at him. “I have already thought about that myself and I think I could even find good reasons to make it happen. But whether it’s really a good idea, from a rational, non-subject point of view… I’m not too sure. I don’t know all the details, but I think there was a purpose for to not telling you where he went. Mr Payne talked about ‘compromised judgement’ when we breached the subject earlier.”

Dominic huffed indignantly at that and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, of course he would say that.”

“But you want to come along anyway, I take it.” Finally her smile seemed genuine again and he felt sympathy emanating from them.

Still he hesitated for a second before he sighed and nodded, dropping all pretences. “Yes. Matthew, he… he’s a genius in his own way. But he has this tendency to get tunnel vision and that’s when he’s most prone to stupid ideas. I think I can get him to focus.”

“You do like him, don’t you?” She regarded him with warm eyes and he had no idea where the thought had suddenly come from, but he imagined that she would make a great mother one day. Well.

“I do,” he murmured and averted his eyes on instinct. Great, she probably already knew what was really going on. “And I’m worried about him.”

“Well then,” she said and rubbed her hands together as if she was about to announce great news. “I think you should get packed tonight, we’re leaving tomorrow morning. Our flight is scheduled for 6 o’clock.”

At that his head snapped up and he stared at her in utter disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“I always am,” she grinned as she got up from her chair. “Well, almost always. I do appreciate humour, too. Now I think you should get back to work as I have a fuming associate editor to pacify.”

Dominic’s eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his head. Was this woman for real?

“I can’t say I’m not enjoying your undivided attention, Mr Howard, but you should stop staring at me like that, at least when we’re with Mr Bellamy. It might give him the wrong idea.”

Charlotte winked at him and turned around to the door.

“ What? I… No, I didn’t mean…” God, this was ridiculous. __Get your shit together, Howard!__ He shook his head and smiled at her back in earnest. “Please, call me Dominic. Or Dom. Whichever you prefer.”

She looked at him over her shoulder and returned his smile. “Charlotte,” she said. “And before you ask, no, I cannot tell you where exactly we’re going. It’s classified. You’ll know as soon as we’re at the airport anyway. And it’s just a suggestion, but maybe we shouldn’t tell your boss about the change of plans. He might want to interfere and that’s something we should definitely avoid.”

Wow, she was undoubtedly psychic. Without another word, she left and closed the door behind her again. For a few seconds Dominic could do nothing but stare at the door and try to comprehend what had just happened. This had gone far better than he had even dared to imagine.

 

**Wednesday, 12th, June 2013, 09:13pm GMT, Central London**

“Wow,” Christopher mouthed after Dominic had finished his account of the conversation with Charlotte. “That’s… I never expected this to work out so well. She seems like a great person. But don’t make the mistake of telling her too much. I know she’s on our side, but you can never be too careful.”

Well, that sobered Dominic a little. Of course Christopher was right, though.

They were comfortably lounging on Dominic’s sofa, the leftovers of their Chinese takeaway still sitting on the coffee table and the TV droning in the background.

“I know, I know,” Dominic nodded and waved his hands around for good measure. “But now I finally have a way of getting to Matt.”

“Yes, and that’s great!” Christopher replied and added with a sigh, “Especially after he still hasn’t answered my message. I just hope he’s alright.”

“Me too… Now that the news are out there, he’s surely completely on edge. I don’t think he’s really been ready for that kind of exposure. Everyone’s speculating about his identity, he’s going to have a hard time dealing with the pressure,” Dominic mused and Christopher nodded his agreement.

“You know, he might not show it at first, but he’ll be relieved to have you around. Remember my words when he’s raging at you for putting yourself in harm’s way.” The agent smirked and sipped his coke.

“I think I can deal with that,” Dominic smiled confidently. Right now there was nothing that could damp down his spirits. He felt positively euphoric.

“As to the matter of me being put onto you, I think I can manage to give you a head start tomorrow without raising suspicions. I’ll just lose track of you on the way to the airport, that should give you at least a day or two before they find out. I’m pretty sure you’ll end up in some country the government will have problems with in terms of extradition, considering that Assange is involved in this. He’ll have made sure not to make it too easy for those bastards,” Christopher smirked in grim satisfaction.

“Chris…” Dominic started, but wasn’t really sure of how to breach the subject. And yes, they were on nickname basis now. The agent looked at him expectantly. “What… what exactly happened to Matt? I mean, with his family?”

Christopher sighed deeply at the question and did not answer for a few seconds. For a moment, Dominic was afraid that he had crossed some unspoken line, but then the agent met his eyes again.

“ Most of what I know, I have gathered from the things Matt __didn’t__ talk to me about. His father left when he was about 16, I think. He blamed Matt for it, but truth be told, the bastard just needed an excuse for his affair as he had started another family on the side. Very convenient if you ask me. Matt’s older brother Paul… well, Matt really looked up to him. He was his role model in a lot of ways. Sadly, the guy was just like his father and blamed it all on Matt when their father told him about his baby brother’s sexuality. Homophobic arseholes, the lot of them.” Christopher scrunched up his face in disgust.

“Wait!” Dominic exclaimed a bit too loudly. But well, he was excited. Horrified and sickened by the way Matthew had been treated by his family, but excited all the same. “Matt is gay?”

For a split second Christopher seemed confused, but then his face split into a broad grin. “You didn’t know? Oh well, I guess that explains it then.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you two didn’t get it on with.”

For the second time that day Dominic’s eyes were literally about to pop out of their sockets. What?

“I mean, he __obviously__ liked you. A lot. Otherwise he would never have been so open with you. And the poor guy hasn’t been with anyone in about ten years. So… I’m just putting two and two together here, if you know what I mean.” The taller man was evidently highly amused by Dominic’s almost comical expression.

Yes, he had expected it. But __knowing__ was a completely different matter.

“Anyway… where were we? Ah yes, his family. His mum has never been the strongest of people and she fell apart when her husband left to live with his other family. She’s a good person, but was too wrapped up in her own problems to really notice what was going on with Matt. She loved him, but… she never managed to be there for him when he needed her the most. So he came to believe what his father and brother told him about himself. Matt withdrew himself further and further because he was ashamed of his sexuality. His mother couldn’t reach him anymore. I think he loves her still, but also resents her a bit for her mental absence. She is making an effort to try and keep in touch, though, as least as far as I know.”

Dominic tried to digest this new information. God, it was horrible! No one deserved such treatment, especially not from their family! Those were the people Matt should have been able to trust with his life, but… Fuck, Dominic hated them from the very bottom of his heart, even though he had never met them. Hopefully he would never have to… although he would have loved to give them a piece of his mind.

All of this only strengthened him in his resolution __to be there__ for Matthew. He was more determined than ever to show him that there were people he could trust in. Not completely without ulterior motives, he added in his thoughts, __I want to be one of them. Let me prove that I am worthy of your faith, Matt.__

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? Indeed, it's me. Do you even remember this little story? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. It's been four freaking months and I'm sorry...

_“Hey you! Don’t help them to bury the light, don’t give in without a fight. … Hey you! Don’t tell me there’s no hope at all. Together we stand, divided we fall.”_

[Pink Floyd - Hey You]

 

**Thursday, 13th, June 2013, 05:04am GMT, Gatwick Airport in Crawley, West Sussex**

Dom nervously shifted on his legs, his eyes fixed on the arrival and departure table flashing flight numbers over his head. There had been an anonymous letter in his postbox late last night. A _letter_. How archaic was that? But he understood the necessity and secretly even loved it. It held his flight number as well as the departure time and a meeting point and was now firmly tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. He had taken a cab to the airport and had consequently arrived a few minutes early. The journalist was supposed to meet Charlotte in ten minutes at a coffee stand in the shopping area.

He still had no idea about their destination and his thoughts kept skimming through different possibilities. But nothing seemed to be an appropriate location for Matthew. To him Matthew had become a sort of myth, a person with the potential to become a legend even. Although he had met the man personally and had actually lived with him, the memory of his presence seemed to fade day by day, and all that lingered was the feeling of having been part of something big. Yes, he was idealising the tiny ex-agent. Still, Dominic was sure that would quickly change when they met again. Oh, how much he craved that meeting.

Nevertheless, he was also scared. Scared for himself, yes. There was no shame in admitting that. His future had become subject to change and insecurity so quickly that it made his head spin. One day he had been working in his dream job with the prospect of a promising career. The next day he had become a target of the British secret service with no job and no idea what awaited him after whatever decision he would have to make next. Despite all of this, though, he still felt like he was doing the right thing. He did not want to play hero, he just wanted to help. And a small part of his mind already knew that, if it came to this, he would give himself over to the cause. Because Matthew had been right.

“ _There is so much stuff going wrong these days and I think that with the mass publication of the information I have... well, it could not be rectified, but don’t you think people still have the right to know? We’re living in a democracy here but the government we elected still thinks that it can do whatever it pleases without telling us. There is no such thing as transparency. At least not the way it should be. We are transparent while the government still veils itself in secrecy._ ”

He felt like those words had been permanently burnt into the back of his skull, a constant reminder of their objective. Yes, he did not just consider it Matthew’s cause anymore. This was not about a single person. Plus, he really wanted to have the other man’s back. He wanted to help and support and make him realise that he was not alone. Because that much he had learned about Matthew by now, he had been alone for the greater part of his life and did not usually allow himself to rely on people other than himself.  

With a sigh and the lingering feeling of being watched, he turned away from the departure table and closed his fingers tightly around the strap of his rucksack. Outside dawn was slowly creeping across the car park and announced what promised to be a sunny day. Dominic did not care much for that and instead tried to keep his eyes on his direct surroundings. So far there had been no sign of Charlotte. Actually, there were so few people around that he felt like an intruder. A ridiculous thought, really. But after the half-hearted chase through London that morning, he could not quite shake the feeling that Christopher’s plot might have failed.

The agent had followed his cab, but, just as promised, deliberately lost his trail before it could even become clear where the journalist had been headed. Of course Christopher knew, it had just been an act for the GCHQ. Still, what if their cover got blown? What if Christopher had been found out? He trusted the man, but some things were not controllable. Dominic could just hope that his new friend’s cautiousness was enough to cover their tracks for now.

It was this short moment of inattention in which he was completely caught up in his worries that someone bumped into him. Frozen in shock and with a furiously pumping heart he looked as the slightly shorter, hooded person casually and without a second glance strutted off towards a news stand. Still clinging to his rucksack he took a few deep breaths and brushed a some strands of blond hair out of his forehead. For the shortest of seconds he was tempted to believe that it had been Matthew. But no. What a silly thought...

“Jesus,” he mumbled to himself, “get a grip, Howard.”

Slowly he turned back to the airport’s entrance and snuck a look at the clock above the door. Quarter past. Shit, now he needed to hurry. Scurrying past some stray travelers and the odd cleaner, Dominic’s eyes sought for the meeting point almost frantically. There were a few different coffee stands and he had hoped to just find the right one by looking for Charlotte.

“Dominic,” someone suddenly hissed at him and he immediately halted in his tracks.

His eyes widened when he found the hooded figure leaning against a tall table with two steaming paper cups of coffee in front of him. _Her_ , he corrected himself when he realised that it had been Charlotte all along.

He released a relieved breath when he closed the distance between them and positioned himself on the other side of the table. The woman in front of him smiled softly and pushed one of the cups over to him. Then she took off her hood and quickly tied her ginger locks into a ponytail.

“And I thought you’d follow me first thing after our little bumping incident,” she smirked and took a sip from her cup.

“Well…” Thinking about it now he felt a little stupid for not having realised that it had been Charlotte. “I was…”

“Somewhere else, I know,” she winked and cocked her head a little.

“No, no, not like that,” he immediately said and scratched his neck awkwardly. “It’s just… a weird situation, you know?”

“Oh yeah, don’t even get me started.” Charlotte waved him off and while Dominic took a sip of his own coffee, he watched her subtly assessing their immediate surroundings. “You’re traveling light, that’s good.” She nodded at his rucksack as her eyes fixed on him again.

“I figured we probably wouldn’t have much time to wait for our luggage. Although I still don’t know where we’re going,” Dominic replied quietly and put his cup down again.

At that she nodded, shoved her hand into the pocket of her jacket, and pulled out a slim envelope. Then she pushed it across the table and waited while the journalist took it in his hands. He opened it with nimble fingers and pulled out two plane tickets. Quickly he found the most important information: three and a half hours from Gatwick to Kiev, one hour stay, then another hour to Minsk. No return flight booked.

His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. No return flight. Of course, it was only logical that they couldn’t determine how long they would have to stay in… in Minsk. Freaking _Minsk_. But it was different to see it printed and all real on this ticket. It was like someone had decided this for him and now there was no going back.

“Are you okay?” Charlotte leant forward a bit and searched his face for signs of fear.

“No… no, I’m alright.” He tried to shake the feeling of being sucked into something he couldn’t control and reminded himself of the fact that _he_ had indeed taken this decision.

“Good…” she replied, obviously not quite convinced but willing to drop the topic for the time being. “There’s something we haven’t talked about yet. You’ll need a new ID and passport for this journey.”

“Oh… okay… but how’re we going to do that? I thought we’re leaving at 6?” The journalist’s stomach was in knots only a moment later because he thought that this was his mistake. Indeed, he had not really given this particular detail any thought.

“Not to worry, I have already taken care of it,” she bit her lip and handed him another envelope.

Dominic knitted his eyebrows as he opened it. It felt a bit heavier than the first one and in it he found a pristine, new passport and an ID. Disbelievingly he examined it and finally looked up at Charlotte again.

“How the hell…?”

“Don’t ask,” she sighed. “We have our… our ways. Listen, I know this is a big step for you. It’s not quite legal and could get you into serious trouble. Are you really sure you want to do this?”

Dominic’s eyes flicked back at the official papers in his hands and pursed his lips. Not quite legal… yeah, that was one way of putting it. Ever since he had made the decision to go through with his resolve to help Matthew he had known the potential consequences. He had been torn between fear and determination. Now she was offering him the final chance to opt out, to escape from a dire predicament.

Eventually he looked back up at her, nodding his head just the slightest bit.

“As sure as it gets.”  

 

**Thursday, 13th June 2013, 02:53pm GMT+3, Partyzanski District of Minsk**

“ _As of today there are still no news concerning The Guardian’s anonymous source. Meanwhile, speculations on the internet stretch from well-known press moguls to Russian secret service agents. Media experts are in agreement that it has to be a resourceful insider, but as the first part of what is said to become the biggest publication since the Iraq and Afghan War Diaries has already struck a sensitive nerve with the British government, the identity of the whistleblower is going to need top protection. The revelation of the Government Communications Headquarters’ mass surveillance of Britain’s people has already caused an unprecedented uproar among citizens as well as politicians. The expected publications of the original documents by WikiLeaks is still due as yet. But…_ ”

Matt turned the TV down a bit and raked his fingers through his untidy hair. He still had not gotten used to its new and oh so unfamiliar shade. The same applied for his new name. Daniel Morrison… no. That felt completely wrong and while he could appreciate the reference to another Mr Morrison, he still refused to accept it as a part of himself. Which, rationally seen, he did not have to, anyway. But in all the chaos and uncertainties he felt like someone was trying to force it onto him. Maybe it was even him who pushed himself so much, he just could not tell anymore. With the publication and the first world-wide reactions had come a strong sense of loneliness and isolation for Matthew. He felt help- and meaningless in the grant scheme, small and lost. How was he supposed to handle all of this? He was just a man, after all. People did not even know that it was _him_ , and already the pressure felt like too much to bear. What had he been thinking? He was no hero or leader of some revolution. He was no freaking Che Guevara, for fuck’s sake.   

“Matthew, any special wishes for the sandwiches?”

Feeling a little disoriented, Matthew turned around to look over the back of the couch and into the kitchen. Morgan had been here for the greater part of the day now and his presence at least helped to ease a bit of the ex-agent’s tension. Then there was also the matter of this Robinson’s arrival. Morgan had already told him that there had been a last minute change of plans. Now some WikiLeaks guy named Gilmour had also decided to join them in their safe house. To Matthew it was just as well. He did not really care much as long as no one sold him out.

“Matthew?”

“Oh errr… no. Do you need a hand, though?”

“Nah, it’s alright. I think I can handle some cheese and tuna.”

He could hear the slightly older man chuckle while busying himself in the tiny kitchen. With a sigh Matthew leant back again and pulled his legs up onto the couch. Morgan seemed to think really highly of this Charlotte Robinson. He had already told him a lot about her work for WikiLeaks. But, and that was something Matthew found rather curious, apparently he did not know the Gilmour guy. Morgan had said that it was nothing unusual to be put into contact with someone new. Sending a complete stranger over in such a situation seemed to have disconcerted him a bit, though. After the past few days Matthew had come to learn that Morgan liked to have an overview of what was happening and losing control went totally against that. But he was also loyal and trusted Assange. _A bit too much maybe_ , Matthew thought.

The young man stretched his legs out in front of him, crossed his ankles on the coffee table, and pulled out a bottle of water that was stuck between the back and the armrest of the couch. Quickly he unscrewed it and took a swig. Then he turned the volume of the TV up again, but with no intention to really listen. He just needed some background noise so as to distract himself a bit. But distracting yourself when the world seemed to be crumbling around you was not the easiest of tasks.

In that moment, more than anything else, he wished to hear Dominic’s voice again. He really missed his soothing timbre and his pragmatism. Dominic had been able to calm him in a way no one before him had ever managed. It was weird, really, because they hadn’t known each other for more than a few days and already Matthew felt like an integral part of himself was missing. No, he did not want Dominic here, not really. Because that would have meant the end for the journalist. There was no way of going back if you were as deeply involved as Matthew was, and he surely did not want that for Dominic. He wanted his… his friend to be safe.

Besides, he still did not know about the part he was playing in the whole publishing-behind-his-back affair. Really, Matthew wanted to believe that Dominic had betrayed him, as absurd as it sounded. It would make it so much easier to resent the man and start forgetting about him. It would make him faulty and imperfect, less desirable and trustworthy. In a way Matthew knew how twisted and wrong that sounded, but he did not trust his own judgement anymore and even if Dominic had not betrayed him… What good would it do give himself over to another person? Over all the years since his parents’ divorce, he had lost the will to believe in other people and especially in the meaning of relationships, no matter their nature. Yes, that was indeed a very bitter outlook on life, but it was the one Matthew had resigned himself to. To him it meant solidity and a guarantee of not getting hurt. Or so he had thought.

Because then came Dominic… Matthew closed his eyes and cupped his face in his hands, a gesture speaking of pure frustration. He had allowed the other man to get close to him, had permitted himself to open up, even if just the slightest bit. And now? Now he felt stuck. There had been no farewells, no thank yous, no apologies. He had pulled Dominic down with him and then left him to cope with the aftermath. Or had he? Well… there was at least one thing he had left the journalist. Publicity. Maybe it could help his career, make him a star of the media world. That was probably nothing his ex-host would have asked for. In Matthew’s mind he was a person of integrity, passion for his job and hard work, not one for short cuts. But if it was the only thing Matthew had to offer… he hoped the journalist would make the best of it. At least he was out of harms way now that there was no whiney ex-agent occupying his home anymore. At least he was safe. Hopefully. With Christopher involved he probably was.      

“Matthew, we have visitors,” Morgan suddenly announced in passing as he made his way to the front door.

“Okay,” he replied half-heartedly and fixed his eyes on the TV screen again.

Should he feel bad because he did not feel like being around strangers? Strangers who had flown over from London just to help him? New people around meant that he would have to introduce himself, make small talk, and explain stuff. No… the thought alone made him cringe inwardly.

Once again he was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not even hear the greetings that were exchanged in the hallway. There was shuffling and rustling and exhausted murmuring, but Matthew missed most of it. The news programme that was currently flashing over the screen did not hold much interest for him. Nevertheless did he pretend to be transfixed. Maybe he could stall some more.

“You must be Matthew,” a female voice sounded from the doorway, immediately followed by footsteps and a figure walking around the couch so as to get a look at him.

Sighing deeply Matthew finally turned his eyes away from the TV and looked up at her. She was about his height and her kind (and attractive, even he had to admit that) face was framed by ginger locks. She smiled at him and reached out her hand in greeting. Matthew took and shook it.

“Yeah, I am. And you are Charlotte Robinson, I take it?”

“Exactly,” she kept smiling and eventually put down her bag next to the table.

As the other newcomer still seemed to be standing in the hallway, he just leant back again and took another swig from his water bottle. He was surely not going to get up.

Charlotte looked over the back of the couch and to the doorway, her brows knitted tightly and the hint of a pout on her lips. There was an almost inaudible sigh behind him and then more footsteps.

“Matt?”

Instantly his whole body froze. He did not turn around.

“Matt… I’m… erm… hi.”

No.

Charlotte looked back and forth between Matthew and the still incorporeal voice. But the former could not move for the life of him.

“Erm… Matt? Matthew?” Now the voice sounded almost worried.

“Dominic,” Matthew finally breathed quietly and slowly turned around.

The young journalist was standing behind the couch, awkwardly clutching his rucksack, shifting from one leg to the other, and his expression speaking of insecurity and questions. Matthew felt like he had been thrown into a pit. No. He was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to have forgotten about Matthew and keep on with his life. He was supposed to be safe. He was supposed to be… but no… despite all of it, he was still here. In this very room. Why? Now he would go down. Although Dominic had gotten his publicity… if that was what he had been after, Matthew could not be sure about anything anymore… he had come here to jump headfirst into something bigger than him, than all of them. Was he really naive enough not to see the danger? Once this blew up - and it surely would - they would lose everything. _Dominic_ would lose everything. That had never been part of the plan! But now there was no turning back for either of them anymore.

With these thoughts dominating his mind, his expression darkened although his stomach was fluttering with nerves and excitement. Alas, Matthew had always been more of a cerebral person and, over the years, had mastered the art of controlling emotional outburst. Most of the times, at least.

“What are you doing here, Dominic?”

The man in question opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, his lips quivering with unspoken words, but nothing more than a silent breath escaped. So instead of giving a verbal reply he just answered Matthew’s stern gaze with his own, uncertain one. Quickly the tension became tangible and while Morgan, not really a man of emotional matters, was stealing longing glances towards the kitchen as an escape, Charlotte cleared her throat before addressing Matthew again.

“Well, we’re here to help. Get things in order and plan our next moves. Dominic joined me as a consultant on… media matters.”

She had been about to say “you”, but fortunately had gotten around that at the last second. Because _that_ would have clearly not gone down too well with the completely tensed whistleblower in front of her.

“Mmmph.” Not too proud of his eloquent reply, Matthew turned away from Dominic again and curled further into the couch.

No, this was all kinds of wrong. But if that was true… why was his heart still beating against his ribs like its only goal was to escape his chest?

 

**Thursday, 13th, June 2013, 04:37pm GMT, London Borough of Westminster**

“Christopher…,” the chief agent sighed, sounding almost desperate. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I’m not doing anything to myself.” The reply was firm and almost stubborn.

“You’re on the best way of destroying your exceptional career. If you just gave up on your twisted loyalties and told us what you have done, I could clean your record and all would go back to normal. No one would know. Just…” Another sigh escaped the older man’s lips.

“Peter, I have no idea what you are talking about. I haven’t done anything. I lost his trail, it’s as easy as that.” Christopher rolled his aching neck and folded his hands on the table in front of him.

He had been in countless interrogation rooms before, but never as a suspect. It felt weird but also kind of refreshing. He knew all the manipulation tricks and that was why his superior would not dare to try them on him. There was no use, anyway.

“That doesn’t sound like you. You don’t _just lose_ a trail. What happened?”

“Traffic happened.”

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb with me. I don’t like this, you have to know that. But if there’s no other way, I will have to report this.”

“Well then, go on. Do what you have to.”

Peter Stevens got out of his chair and started to pace the room in frustration. Christopher had always been one of his best agents, but now some of his colleagues had reported his long stretches of absence since their stationing in London. No one knew where he had gone during those times. Christopher knew his field and if he wanted to stay undercover even a trained agent would have his fair share of problems locating him. It was not like they hadn’t tried. His phone record was clean, safe for the few calls to and from the Headquarters. Stevens needed a different approach.

“What do you know about agent Bellamy aside from his recent misdemeanour?”

Christopher didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. “Bellamy? I went to school with him. We were acquaintances back then, but have lost contact a few years ago. I think he was some sort of deskjockey in Cheltenham up until his disappearance. And here I was thinking that you already knew all of that and that it’s the reason why you put me in charge of the search.”

Stevens knew that Christopher was lying. He knew it, but had no evidence. The man in front of him had been working against the GCHQ from the very beginning on, and he had only realised that just now. Christopher was a professional. The chief agent knew that as well, as he had been the one to train him. Everything he knew, he had learnt from him.

“I know you’re still in contact with Bellamy.”

“And how are you going to prove that?”

Outwardly Christopher was as calm as ever. He did neither flinch nor sweat or give any indication of anxiety at all. But inwardly… well, that was a different matter. He would never give his friends away as he was firmly convinced of the righteousness of their cause. Nevertheless, even without his confession it was only a matter of time until they would find out about Matthew’s location and Dominic’s involvement. And then… well, then there was nothing he could do for them anymore. It was clear that he would not leave his future cell for a very long time.

“We’ll find something and you know that. Probably sooner than later. I know you’re stalling to buy him more time. But in the end that won’t help because we’re going to find him anyway. And you will have thrown away your life for nothing.”

Christopher swallowed quietly.

_Please Matt, don’t let me have done this in vain._ _Make it mean something..._

 


	11. Chapter 11

“ _You understand that you will be fighting in the dark. You will always be in the dark.”_

  


**Friday, 14th June 2013, 02:04am GMT+3, Partyzanski District of Minsk**

“Hell, I don’t know,” Morgan groaned, stretching his arms to both sides as he warily eyed the screen in front of him. “Julian’s not talking to me about that. And it’s driving me nuts.”

He was seated at the small table together with Charlotte and Dominic.

“He didn’t say anything concrete to me either. I know the plan to release the full documents is still standing, but he’s not giving away any details about when,” Charlotte sighed and took a sip of her wine.

“He wasn’t that hesitant the last time, was he?” Dominic asked, throwing a sidelong glance at Matthew, who hadn’t left the sofa ever since their arrival and still stubbornly refused to talk to any of them.

“No, definitely not. Maybe he’s waiting for something,” Charlotte replied and got out of her chair. “Maybe we should call it a night. Nothing new has come up so far and I’m starving.” She made her way over to the door before announcing, “I’m gonna cook some late-night dinner, anyone else interested? Matthew?”

While Dominic and Morgan nodded their heads eagerly, Matthew remained quiet, making a great effort of appearing to be transfixed with the television. With a deep sigh the ginger woman left the room followed by Morgan only a second later.

“What do you think is wrong with him?” she whispered cautiously as she opened the tiny fridge and looked up at her colleague.

“Well… I guess he’s generally paranoid and didn’t expect Dominic to show up here. Seems like he’s in a bit of a conflict there. First he believed Dominic wanted to sell him out, but now I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

They exchanged a long look before Charlotte proceeded to throw some more or less random ingredients into a small saucepan.

“He better get over that quickly … For all I know Dominic’s quite taken with the guy and we cannot afford to be distracted by some petty emotional disagreements.”

Just when Morgan nodded at that, they both looked up at the sound of Matthew leaving the living room and making his way to the bathroom. The loud bang of the door left no doubt about his general displeasure at the situation.

“Yeah, this is going to be fun,” Morgan grumbled.

 

_No. No, no, no._

Matthew turned the key in the lock and sank down on the toilet seat. _Why the hell was this happening?_ He didn’t want Dominic here. It made everything so much more complicated than it already was. And the journalist had to know that. Still he’d refused to stay safe and sound and instead come here. Hadn’t the letter been enough to show him that his safety was important to him? Why couldn’t he just respect Matthew’s wish for him to stay _out_ of it? By now it was quite obvious that it hadn’t been Dominic’s idea to include The Guardian in the whole publishing affair or he wouldn’t be here, and, to be honest, Matthew couldn’t even argue with their involvement anymore. Of course he had been scared at first and felt betrayed. But now… well, to reach a broader audience you had to do more than just publish on a website people were partially suspicious of.  Especially when its runner was accused of sex crime. While he refused to believe those accusations, it undeniably cast an unfavourable light on the organisation so heavily associated with Assange. That wasn’t really his problem right now, though.

The problem was the naive blond sitting in the living room. The man who’d taken him in so willingly and who was still so set on helping him. The only person in this he really cared about because it was his fault that he’d been dragged into it in the first place.

“Shit!” he cried out in desperation and buried his face in his hands, making the other people in the flat flinch in surprise.

 

Dom looked up from the paper he was currently trying to distract himself with. His thoughts were in whirlwind action at that point for he was not sure why Matthew was distancing himself so much. He had not been this closed off in their short time in London. Did he really believe it had been his idea for The Guardian to get involved? Did Stewart fuck this up for him and now he had to deal with the consequences? He just didn’t want Matthew to feel alone in this... and yet the man refused any interaction.

Maybe it wasn’t even because of him. Maybe it was because Matthew felt overwhelmed by his predicament. And who could blame him? Hell, Dominic still couldn’t quite grasp everything that was going on and in comparison to the whistleblower he was a mere bystander. Probably guilty by association, but still. Back in London he had become a target himself, granted. But, certainly opposed to Matthew’s opinion, it had been _his_ choice. He had known what he was getting himself into.

Suddenly he felt cut by the other man’s patronising behaviour towards him. Why did he think he couldn’t make his own choices? In a way he understood why Matthew might feel guilty about it, but Dominic was still an autonomous person. The feeling of being treated unfairly took a tight hold of him and he jumped up, fueled by annoyance. He stormed over to the bathroom, completely ignoring the confused looks directed at him from the kitchen, and rapped his knuckles against the door almost aggressively.

“Matt, I’ve had enough of this! I don’t know what’s up with you, if you’re mad at me for coming here or if you think I betrayed your trust or whatever, but I don’t really see how I’ve wronged you so much as to deserve this! Seriously, I’ve made all the right decisions so far and you treat me like I’m not even here!”

His face was flushed bright red by that point and the lack of response only spurred him on.

“I know all of this is fucking hard on you, but ignoring us is not going to solve anything!”

Matthew sucked in a sharp breath at Dominic’s harsh tone. On one hand, it was refreshing to hear him raise his voice; it was also scary as he hadn’t expected it from the usually gentle and soft spoken journalist. Then again, what did _usual_ even mean in their situation? It wasn’t like they really _knew_ each other all that well. Maybe he had been too quick with feeling comfortable around him. Maybe people were all the same afterall, nice at first but quickly frustrated with him if his behaviour went against their liking.

“Stop being such a dick and just _talk_ to me already!”

The wooden door shuddered under another assault of Dominic’s knuckles. A red-hot pang of anger ignited a vicious fire in him and suddenly he wasn’t able to control himself anymore. In one quick motion he was by the door, unlocked it, and pulled it open, finding his anger reflected in Dominic’s expression.

“You want to talk?” he spat at the blond, balling his hands into tight fists at each side of his body. “Then talk! Did you know about your paper’s plans? Why are you here? What do you want from me? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Momentarily baffled by Matthew’s sudden appearance, Dominic shook his head in disbelief. “Of course I didn’t know about it! Stewart went behind my back, too! I even quit my job because of it!”

For a second Matthew faltered and anger was replaced by earnest confusion.

“He betrayed us both and, believe me, I do have my values, too. And I believe in you, so why wouldn’t I be here? Really, you don’t have to like it but I’m part of this, too, and I want to help as much as I possibly can!”

“But it’s not safe!” Matthew cried out, throwing his arms up in desperation. “ _You’re_ not safe!”

“Oh, don’t give me that crap! Do you really think I don’t know that? Neither of us is safe anymore! This is not just about you! Yes, you might’ve been the person to start it, but you’re no longer the only one involved! I want the world to know as much as you do, and don’t you think it’s a bit arrogant to think that it’s your personal responsibility? This affects _everybody_!”

“I fucking know that!” Matthew burst out again. “But it surely isn’t _your_ responsibility! You were not supposed to even _have_ a part in this!”

“Oh, so I was just convenient when you had no one else to turn to? I was good enough when you needed a place to stay? You used me, that’s what you’re saying, right?”

“No, I didn’t… You…” Matthew’s face fell at that. He didn’t know what to say, how to make himself understood. Did Dominic really believe that?

“What then? You discarded me under the pretense of being worried about my safety as soon as ‘more capable people’ came along.” The journalist air-quoted the words bitterly. “That’s what it looks like to me right now.” He knew he was grossly exaggerating, hoping to finally provoke an honest reaction from the other man. He knew Matthew hadn’t used him out of selfish reasons. But he needed him to say it. The next step would be to make him understand that he truly needed to accept all the help he could get. Not really an easy task considering the man’s deeply rooted trust issues.

Unfortunately, and much to Dominic’s frustration, they were interrupted by Charlotte, who had quietly made her way into the living room, just when Matthew had been about to open his mouth again. “Guys! Sorry, but you really need to see this!” Her voice sounded apologetic but urgent as she turned up the volume of the TV.

Immediately alerted Matthew stormed past Dominic who followed him with a resigned sigh. Morgan was already sitting on the sofa next to Charlotte, both of them intently staring at the screen currently occupied by a male reporter. The real centre of their attention was the picture in the right corner, though.

The journalist’s heart stopped for several moments before picking up a painfully fast pace as he stared at the photograph of himself.

“ _Dominic James Howard, a former journalist of The Guardian, is now accused of obstructing the GCHQ’s investigations concerning the misappropriation of classified government documents. He is also facing charges for enabling the agent who is apparently responsible for the release of the documents in question. The British Security Agency has given no further statement about the agent’s identity as yet, only saying that it was an inside job and voicing their indignation about, quote, ‘this outrageous breach of trust’. Furthermore, the agency urges the public to consider the danger and chaos these latest publications could cause, and to treat this not as the act of a hero but of a traitor. Meanwhile, activists and enraged citizens all over the globe have started to organise and speak up, pledging their support of the as yet unknown whistleblower. WikiLeaks still hasn’t published the full documents, raising doubts as to the extent of their involvement. Assange’s hesitance to act according to the organisation’s principles has consequently put his innocence in the sex crime allegations he is still facing in Sweden to question again.”_

“Shit.” Morgan was the first to break the silence after the report had ended. “Shit!”

Dominic felt hot and cold at the same time, his mind one big, dense mess. Vertigo took hold of him and he sank down on the nearest chair. They were officially onto him. Good thing he was already in hiding, he thought grimly. But how long could it possibly take the agency to locate them? Were they in any legal position to take them into custody on foreign ground? Belarus might not have any extradition treaties with Britain or the US, but would that make any difference in the end? Probably not. They hadn’t even sought asylum, intent on keeping a low profile here. In retrospect, that seemed too naive and short-sighted.

They should have done that from the very beginning on, speak up loudly and make themselves known to the world. Even if it had meant the revelation of Matthew’s identity. It wasn’t too late for that, though, was it?

“We need to go and file an application for political asylum,” he announced to the otherwise quiet room, making Morgan and Charlotte turn their heads. Matthew was standing next to the sofa, completely rigid and his eyes still fixed on the screen. He appeared to be absolutely oblivious to the people around him, his face clear of any emotions.

Fuck that, they didn’t have time for yet another nervous breakdown!

“Come again?” Morgen asked. “Now that the whole bloody world knows your face you want to go out there and beg Lukashenko for political asylum? _That’s_ your plan?”

“Dominic is not all that wrong,” Charlotte mused and gave the journalist a nod. “Maybe it really is time to go public. And I mean fully public.” She turned to Morgan. “I mean, think about it. Our best bet is to make it as difficult as possible for them to actually charge and convict us and especially Matthew. He probably won’t like it,” she said, giving him a sidelong glance, “but we need him as our figurehead now.”

Dominic eyed him cautiously, hoping he would _finally_ react. But the smaller man didn’t even move. In fact, for all Dominic knew he might have stopped breathing minutes ago.

“But here?” Morgan groaned in exasperation. “Really? We’ve only brought him here because they don’t have any extradition treaties with western countries, just in case it ever came to the worst case scenario. You really think this bloody dictatorship would take us in, the democrats and free thinkers that we are, just to spite their political opponents?”

“I know it’s not ideal-” Charlotte started, but faltered quickly as another steady but painfully impassive voice joined their argument.

“Morgan is right,” Matthew said and the rest of them fell quiet. “This nation’s government is not known for its love of the free press or even freedom of speech. Just remember what Amnesty International reported about what happened to those Polish journalists back in 2005. Besides, what kind of statement would it be to go public from here? Our cause goes completely against the idea a dictatorship stands for. We cannot show ourselves begging this super-presidential system to make an exception for us. I am, by the way, indeed opposed to the whole me becoming the figurehead idea as Dominic rightfully pointed out that this is not just about me, but I do see why it might become necessary.”

At that moment Dominic felt his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Had that really been Matthew speaking? _Matthew?_ Because right now the level-headed, self-assured man standing there bore no resemblance to the shy but irascible person he had gotten to know. What the hell had just happened? Was there some kind of switch in his head that had finally been flipped? How could he be so damn calm when their problems were piling up as they were speaking and their sheer number made them seem all the more insurmountable?

“First of all we need to find a country whose government would be willing to grant us political asylum. Then we need a way to get there safely. Neither Charlotte nor Morgan have been officially denounced as my accomplices yet, so maybe it won’t be necessary for all four of us to go. I understand that you,” he looked at Charlotte, fixing her with his intense blue gaze, “are going to play a very important part concerning strategies when we want to go public, so maybe you can follow us to our as yet unknown destination country as our legal advisor. By then it should be safe and no one should be able to accuse you of any illegal actions. The GCHQ as well as the public already know about the involvement of WikiLeaks in this, so it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you came to support us.”

By then all three of them were openly gaping at the surprisingly resourceful whistleblower. He narrowed his eyes at them in confusion, not fully understanding why they were so shocked. It was a bit insulting, really.

“What?” he eventually asked, voice tinged with annoyance.

“When exactly did you go from silent nervous wreck to calculating tactician?” Morgan asked incredulously. “Just so I know which signs to look out for the next time you go all quiet and pensive.”

Matthew rolled his eyes impatiently. “As you can very well see,” he pointedly looked himself up and down, “I didn’t get my job at the agency solely based on my good looks.”

Oh, sarcasm. That was kind of new. Dominic wasn’t quite sure why but he didn’t like this Matthew. He seemed… fake. Like a mask he put on to play a role.

For a short moment their eyes met when Matthew turned to see why the journalist had fallen so unusually quiet. And there it was again, the haunted look he was trying so hard to hide from the others. But his eyes betrayed him. Dominic could positively _see_ how desperately he was fighting for control in his own head now that they were facing more complications, and how much it took him to force himself into the role of the “calculating tactician”. This, finally, was his emergency mode. And although Dominic was grateful to have a real plan of action they could follow, this façade Matthew was building around himself really didn’t sit right with the journalist. If he missed the moment to pry him open again, Matthew might lose himself in it and that right there was a thought he really couldn’t bear.

“So … you accept my help?” he asked carefully.

The other man sighed quietly and averted his eyes. Eventually he said, “What other choice do I have? You’re here now and I can’t send you back… although I still wish I could.” The last sentence was mumbled almost inaudibly, but Dominic could make out the regret in it nevertheless.

 

**01:53pm**

It was later that day when Charlotte and Dominic came back from a trip to the shops. Of course it had taken a lot of persuasion on the journalist’s part for her to actually take him with, but strangely enough none of the Belarusian papers were reporting on him so far. Much to their relief, really.

Now they returned with bags full of groceries and some hair dye for the blond. He didn’t really like the idea of going brown all that much, but Charlotte was right, they shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. Hopefully it wouldn’t be a permanent change, anyway.

“We’re back,” Charlotte announced as she stepped out of her shoes in the hallway.

“Living room,” Morgan replied, sounding a little grumpy.

They followed his voice and, sure enough, the older man was sitting at the small table, laptop in front of him and typing away busily. He didn’t even look up when they entered and came to stand behind him.

“Where is Matt?” Dominic asked after quickly having searched the room for the absent man.

“Kitchen,” Morgan grumbled. “Hasn’t left it since you two took off. I think he’s smoking the last of my cigarettes. And I smelled coffee, but he didn’t even bother to offer me one. Twat.”

“Oh.” The younger man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t taken Matthew for a smoker.

“Yeah, oh.” Morgan was quite irritated, that much was obvious. “Don’t even get me started on the work I’m doing to put his oh-so-brilliant plan into action. Which is, by the way, going to be incredibly difficult. I asked him if he already had a certain country in mind. He just patted my shoulder and said ‘I trust you with this’. Then he locked himself up in the kitchen.” He sighed heavily and turned around to look at Charlotte and Dominic. “I guess the role allocation is already set for him. He’s the brain, we’re the muscle.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Dominic pouted and returned Morgan’s gaze almost stubbornly. “That doesn’t sound like him, at all. I’m going to see how he’s doing.”

Charlotte nodded almost gratefully while Morgan just turned around to the screen again. Dominic left the room with a worried glance at the red head and then went to knock at the kitchen door. He braced himself for another argument, for Matthew being unfair and for himself getting loud again, but nothing happened. Even another attempt at politeness didn’t draw any reaction from inside the room, his knocking remaining unanswered. Confused and with a nagging feeling in his stomach, he pushed the door handle down and peeked inside.

“Matt?”

The other man was huddled in a chair next to the window, having cocooned himself in a hoodie that was easily twice his usual size. One hand was clamped around a steaming cup of coffee while the other held a cigarette close to his lips. He didn’t look up as Dominic entered the small room and closed the door again. It was then that he heard the subdued blare of music through headphones coming from the other man. Ah.

Dominic hopped onto the kitchen counter unceremoniously, making Matthew flinch in surprise. He ripped the buds out of his ears and stared at him.

“What the hell?”

“Just wanted to see what you’re up to,” he shrugged in forced nonchalance.

“Nothing much. I’m fine, thanks,” the smaller man replied sarcastically and turned back to the window, taking an especially long and slow drag off his fag.

“Listen, I… I’m not sure what’s going on with you right now and I certainly won’t claim to know what you’re going through, but… would you at least talk to me?”

Matthew didn’t give away the slightest reaction and so Dominic continued, feeling himself getting more desperate with every billow of smoke that escaped Matthew’s lips instead of words.

“I know it was a rash idea to come here without telling you and I’m sorry if you feel betrayed. I just… I want to help.”

“Yeah, I know,” Matthew finally sighed with an awful edge of resignation to his voice, but still pointedly not looking at him. “And I just wanted to keep you safe. I guess I failed.”

“Matt, this isn’t your fault. I made my own decision. There’s no way you could’ve stopped me from coming here,” the blond said gently, leaning forward and supporting his elbows on his thighs.

“You feel responsible, I get that. But it’s still my fault. I dumped this on you.”

The journalist averted his eyes and his shoulders sagged the tiniest bit. In a way that was true and why deny it? But he could’ve opted out anytime if he’d wanted to, right? He hadn’t, though. Not for a single moment had he really doubted the man in front of him. He’d felt sorry for him at first. Then he’d gotten to know and like him. He’d _missed_ him and wasn’t that an inappropriate time to let his thoughts stray? There really hadn’t been any other option than to jump that plane as soon as the opportunity had presented itself. Did leaping into this without actually thinking count as conscious decision making?

“It was still my call,” he eventually breathed heavily, trying to suppress those nagging thoughts.

The way his words made Matthew fold in on himself stirred something in him. He wanted to take him in his arms and protect him from the world. But instead he remained still and watched him as he stumped out the remnants of his fag.

Matthew took in a deep, laboured breath before finally directing his blue gaze at him again. “Now think about that and tell me if you really had a choice.”

Dominic’s mouth opened for an automatic answer but snapped shut again as his brain silently sided with the whistleblower. Shit. No, to be honest … there had never been any other option than to come here and have his back. There had not even been real thinking.

Matthew just nodded at his silence. “I thought so.”


End file.
